Mort
by x-forbiddenrose-x
Summary: Crossover between Leroux's POTO and the musical Elisabeth. After Erik dies, he becomes Death himself and returns to Christine. Also, she finds herself struggling with her marriage, which is falling apart, and the question of her son. COMPLETE!
1. Erik is Dead

**Disclaimer: I do not own POTO or Elisabeth.**

A/N: For anyone who doesn't know, _Elisabeth_ is a musical about the life of Empress Elisabeth of Austria and her love affair with Death.

**Chapter One**

**Erik is Dead**

Christine Daae went out to the newsstand like she did every morning. As usual, she bought a copy of **_L'Epoque_** from the twelve-year-old boy who ran the kiosk. It had been nearly three weeks since she had escaped from the bowels of the Opera Garnier with her fiancé, Raoul. Now matter how much she would rather forget that awful night, she couldn't. Nor could she forget the promise she had made to Erik, the infamous opera ghost.

"You will buy **_L'Epoque_** every day from now on," he had instructed. "My death shall be advertised in it. When that time comes you will return and bury me by the little well in the third cellar. Before sealing up the grave, you will place that ring on your finger on mine. You are not to remove that ring until then. Will you promise your poor Erik that?" The very thought of returning to the opera cellars made Christine's stomach churn. There, beneath civilization, Erik had stolen her away and proclaimed undying love for her. Oh, the horrible days she had spent by his side in the little house he had built in the fifth cellar. Christine knew, though, that only after performing this morbid duty would she be free of Erik. Then she and Raoul (along with Christine's benefactress, "Mamma" Valerius) could fly away to her native Sweden and live a peaceful life.

"Merci beaucoup, Mademoiselle," the newsboy called as Christine dropped a few sous into his hand. As she walked away, Christine flipped to the obituaries on the back page. Her eyes nonchalantly scanned down the page. After over a fortnight, she didn't expect Erik's name to be there. Imagine her surprise when, in the bottom right corner of the page, she spied the three words that she'd hoped not to see: "Erik is dead". Christine dropped the page into the murky puddle that was at her feet. She picked up her heavy skirts and ran through the Paris streets until she'd reached the de Chagny mansion. Christine acted as if nothing had happened once she crossed the front door's threshold into the foyer. Raoul was waiting for her. Christine didn't even need to wait for him to ask.

"No," she lied.

"I just wish that monster would die and leave us alone."

"Me too." Christine slid her cloak off her shoulders and hung it on the brass hat tree beside the door.

The day passed just as many of the days did for Raoul and Christine. Raoul spent all his time in his study, sorting out the events concerning his brother's mysterious death and his new ascension to the role of the Comte de Chagny, and Christine was left to entertain herself.

That night Christine retired to bed early, hoping that after a good night's sleep she would forget all about Erik's death and her promise to him. Elaine, Christine's maid, helped her into her expensive silk nightgown.

"Is there anything else I can do, Mademoiselle?" she asked.

"No, thank you, Elaine." Christine wrapped a pink kimono around herself and slipped into her bed. Her dainty ivory hand reached over and picked up the book that she was reading now, a collection of romantic poems by Shakespeare. Raoul provided her with such literature- it was proper reading for women.

There was a light knock on Christine's door. "Come in, Raoul."

"Going to bed so early, Christine?" He knelt beside the bed and planted a light kiss on her cheek.

"I'm sorry, Raoul. I'm just so tired."

"It's all right." He rose and headed towards the door. "Good night, Christine."

"Good night, Raoul."

"I love you."

"I love you too." After Raoul left, Christine set down her book, slipped off her kimono, turned out the light, and snuggled under the covers. Sleep seemed elusive to Christine that night. For hours on end she tossed and turned. Around twelve, Raoul came in to check on her before going off to bed himself.

Upon seeing her still awake he asked, "Christine, are you all right?"

"Yes, I'm just restless tonight."

"Is there anything I can do?"

"No, Raoul. I am fine. Good night."

"Good night. Let me know if you need anything. My room is only down the hall." He closed the door, and Christine tried to sleep. Suddenly, there was a flash of light, and a dark figure appeared at the foot of the bed.

"Good evening, my dear," the voice hissed.

"Erik!" Christine sprung up in bed, clutching the eiderdown quilts around herself.

"Yes, Christine." Erik walked around the bed until he was standing beside her. Sinisterly, he took one of her golden curls and spiraled it around his finger. Christine thought about calling for Raoul, but opted not to endanger him.

"Erik, you're dead," she sputtered.

"Yes, I am, aren't I?"

"I am sorry, Erik. I will go bury you."

He gently caressed her cheek. "My dear Christine, you needn't worry about that any more."

"Erik, you're dead."

"Yes. We've been through that already."

"But I'm not dead."

"Correct."

"Then how… how can you touch me?"

He laughed menacingly and said, "Oh, I meant to tell you about that. You see, I am now an immortal, but not any immortal. I am Death himself, and things are different when you're me. I have my own realm, and touch humans like yourself, my dear…" He ran his hand down her face and neck.

But Christine hadn't heard anything since Erik proclaimed himself Death. She clutched his black suit and pleaded, "Please, Erik, don't take me away!"

"Don't fret, Christine, I'm not going to take you… yet. It's not your time. Perhaps you would be kind enough to visit me sometimes, though." He threw off his mask and planted a kiss on the nape of her neck.

Christine pulled away and shrieked, "I'm going to be a married woman!"

"**Madame**, know that it is not wise to refuse Death." Erik took Christine up in his arms, despite her struggle.

Suddenly, a voice floated up to them from down the hallway, "Christine! Christine, are you all right?"

"Raoul!"

"The boy!" Erik sneered, dropping Christine back on the bed.

"Please Erik, don't hurt him!" There was another flash of light, and Christine was left alone in the room.

Raoul burst through the door, "Christine! Are you all right, Christine?"

"Yes," Christine replied, rubbing her temples, "it must have been a dream."

A voice hissed in Christine's right ear, "I doubt that!"

A/N: Please R&R! Flames are welcome!


	2. A Visit to Mamma Valerius

A/N: Sort of a filler chapter.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own POTO or Elisabeth.

**Chapter Two**

**A Visit to Mamma Valerius**

When Raoul left the room, Christine fearfully thought over her position. Erik was totally in control, and nothing she could do could stop him from doing anything. In her state of helplessness, Christine tried to come up with a solution, and the best thing that she could do was marry Raoul right away.

The next morning, she confronted him at the breakfast table. Delicately placing her croissant on her plate, Christine declared, "Raoul, we ought to get married."

Raoul swallowed his coffee and replied, "I thought you wanted to wait for the monster to die first-"

"I know that I said that, Raoul, but it's been three weeks. He's not going to die anytime soon."

Raoul wasintrigued by the idea. It was promising, and it was good to know that his fiancée cared more about him than keeping her promise to the infamous Phantom of the Opera. "You're right, Christine. We need to get away from here. I'll have to make arrangements, buy the train tickets…. We should be ready to leave in about a week."

"No! Tomorrow!"

Raoul became increasingly excited and rejoined, "You're right! Why wait? I'll set the servants to packing right away. We'll get married tomorrow morning and be on the train by noon."

"We'll be taking Mamma Valerius with us?"

"Of course."

"I'll go notify her," Christine said, rising. She quickly fetched her cloak and went out to the stables. "Jacques! Jacques!" she called.

The elderly coachman turned around, "Yes, Mademoiselle?"

"Could you please take me to Mamma Valerius' flat?"

"Of course." Jacques hitched up the horses, and then helped Christine climb into the elegant open-carriage. Christine wished that she didn't have to leave her elderly benefactress in the care of a nurse nowadays, but Raoul's family wouldn't have the lady in the mansion and Raoul didn't want Christine living without his constant protection while Erik still lived. Despite her many pleas, the situation remained the same. Christine was quite surprised at how Raoul's sisters and aunts controlled him so.

"Are you ready, Mademoiselle?" Jacques asked,climbing up into hisseat.

"Yes. Go ahead." Jacques jerked the reins and the two snow-white horses trotted out of the stables and out onto the main Paris roads. As the carriage drove past the Opera Garnier, stared straight ahead of her.

Finally the carriage reached the little flat.

"What time should I return, Mademoiselle?" Jacques asked as he helped Christine down.

"About an hour," Christine replied as she headed into the building. She knocked lightly on the door and called, "Mamma… Mamma…"

From the other side of the door came the sound of the old lady's yet vigorous voice, "Rosa, do you not hear Christine's voice, open the door!"

"Oui, Madame." Soon the door opened and there stood Rosa, Mamma Valerius' nurse.

"Thank you, Rosa," Christine said, walking into the modest flat.

"Christine! Christine!" Mamma Valerius cried from her wheelchair set in the middle of the room. Christine immediately hurried over to her and placed a light kiss on her wrinkled forehead.

"You didn't come yesterday," Mamma Valerius continued. "I was so worried."

"It's all right Mamma, I'm here now." Sometimes Mamma Valerius tended to act like a child, and it was Christine's job to comfort her. She didn't mind it, for she hadn't been more than eight when she had first met the Valeriuses. Besides, it was the least she could do for the woman who had taken such good care of her, especially after her father died.

"Good. Please sit." Christine complied. "Would you like some tea?"

"Yes. That sounds wonderful."

"Rosa, would you fetch some tea for us?"

"Oui, Madame." She curtseyed and scurried off into the kitchen. A quarter of an hour later she returned with the silver tea service. She placed it on the coffee table in front of Mamma Valerius' wheel chair and took a few steps back. Mamma Valerius, playing the role of hostess, picked up a teacup in her feeble hand and asked Christine whether she wanted sugar or milk.

"Milk, please." Mamma Valerius poured a little bit of milk into the tea, stirred it, and handed it to her. "Thank you."

After fixing herself a cup of tea, Christine's benefactress leaned closer to her and asked, "Now tell me, Christine, how are things going with Raoul?"

"Wonderful. Tomorrow we're going to marry and go off to Sweden."

"Oh, sweet Scandinavia! You wouldn't leave me behind, would you?"

"Of course not. That's one of the reasons why I came. You have to pack."

"Oh yes, of course!" The old lady lunged out of her wheelchair. She would've fallen had Christine not been there to support her.

Christine gently lowered her back into the wheelchair and said, "Mamma, calm down. I shall pack for you."

"No. I shall have Rosa pack for me."

"All right." As if on cue, Rosa scampered into the bedroom and began packing whatever clothes and personal items Mamma Valerius had into an old brass bound trunk.

"How has your angel been, Christine?" Mamma Valerius asked casually. The poor old lady knew nothing of the affairs at the opera, let alone anything concerning Erik.

Christine uneasily shifted in her seat and rejoined, "Pardon?"

"Why, the Angel of Music! How has he been? How are your lessons going?"

"Mamma, I believe I told you once that there was no such thing as the Angel of Music," she said gravely. She had been through this with her benefactress before, but she never had quite been able to get it through to Mamma Valerius.

"But surely, Christine, that is not true!"

"It is."

"Don't tell me that your poor father never sent him to you! Surely it is not true, Christine. Don't jest."

"It is as true as true can be, Mamma. There is no such thing as the Angel of Music."

"But you heard him! He gave you lessons for three months."

"The Angel of Music was merely a figure of my imagination."

"Can it be?"

"It can. I've heard scientists talk of such things- illusions of the mind."

"Do you believe that?"

"Yes."

"Oh." The old grandfather clock on the wall chimed twelve noon.

Christine jumped from her seat and cried, "It's noon all ready? I really must be going, Mamma. Jacques will be waiting for me. Au revoir."

"Au revoir, Christine. What time shall you send a carriage for me?

"I'd say around ten o'clock in the morning, maybe."

"All right. I'll be ready by nine."

"Au revoir."

"Au revoir." As Christine had suspected, Jacques was there waiting to take her back to the de Chagny mansion.

A/N: Please R&R!


	3. The Wedding

**Disclaimer: I do not own POTO or Elisabeth.**

**Chapter Three**

**The Wedding**

By the end of the day, all necessary preparations had been made, and all was set for the wedding. Raoul had chosen a small chapel where a priest would perform a minute, quick ceremony and secured three train tickets for Mamma Valerius, Christine, and himself to go to Sweden. The train would leave at quarter after eleven.

Seeing that the ceremony was to be so quick, Christine didn't think she would need a wedding gown of any sort- she planned to simply wear her traveling gown. Raoul had other plans.

"Christine, you must wear a wedding gown," he said. Then he produced his mother's old wedding gown. It was a beautiful gown but it was made in the 1860s style, which required the wearer to have a large crinoline on beneath it so that the full, heavy skirt could be supported. Christine could faintly remember her mother wearing a crinoline beneath her gowns. The wooden cages were quite obstructive, but Christine consented to wearing both gown and crinoline.

"Wake up, Mademoiselle! Mademoiselle!" Christine rolled over in her bed with a yawn.

"All right, Elaine, I'm awake." Lazily, she climbed out of the high four-poster bed and wrapped her kimono around her.

There was a soft knock at her door. Raoul's voice asked, "Christine, are you ready yet? We need to leave for the chapel soon." The wedding! Christine had almost forgotten. She hurried into her dressing room, where she found the gown and crinoline waiting for her. She dressed quickly and looked at herself in the full-length cheval mirror, just to see if there were any last minute changes that needed to be done.

Elaine burst in, "Mademoiselle, what are you doing? Don't you know that it is bad for a bride to see herself in the mirror on her wedding day?"

Christine turned away from the and said in quite an uncomfortable way, "No, I didn't." Being a superstitious woman (even though she was a devout Catholic), Elaine's statement shookChristine up a bit.

"Christine, we need to go," Raoul said through the door.

"I am ready. Here I am." Christine tried to shake the distressing forecast of a possibly unlucky marriage and opened the door and stepped out into the hallway with Raoul.

He softly kissed her cheek. "You look beautiful, Christine."

"Thank you." Christine surveyed Raoul in his tuxedo. "And might I add that you look handsome?" Raoul chortled, his laugh resounding through the silence of the corridor.

"Come, Christine. Jacques must be getting antsy." Christine took Raoul's hand and they began to walk down the hall. Raoul then shot his bride a playful look, and they took off running through the halls of the mansion like the giddy children they had been when they first met. It reminded them both of the games they used to play at Perros, by the seaside.

They reached the carriage in such a fashion, laughing hysterically. Raoul helped Christine in, and then sat himself beside her. The carriage slowly hobbled through the mansion's gates and out into Paris. Raoul took Christine's hand and squeezed it tightly.

"Are you excited?"

"Yes!"

The bliss that the couple was basking in was broken when the sound of a carriage behind her caused Christine to turn around. The road was quite deserted, besides the two carriages, because it was still quite early in the morning, and most people in this section of Paris didn't get up or at least leave their cozy homes until about an hour later.

"What are you looking at, Christine?" Raoul asked, turning his gaze to the carriage also. "That is quite a curious carriage," he mused.

"Yes, it is curious." The carriage was closed and was entirely black, even the wheels, which were fashioned out of wrought iron. It was the sort that had no driver's seat, for it was driven from the inside, with the reins coming in through little holes in the front of the seat. The windows were suspiciously fashioned so that you couldn't see in them.

From then on, Raoul didn't pay any more attention to the carriage, but Christine couldn't take her eyes off it. She could've sworn that, from the carriage, there came a voice singing one of the folk songs that country people sang at weddings. She'd heard several of them once, when Papa had taken her for walks in the countryside after coming to Paris, to remind her of Sweden. The mysterious carriage remained behind the one in which Christine and Raoul were riding, it followed them all the way to the chapel. When Christine and Raoul's carriage stopped, though, the black carriage ducked into an alley, in which it seemed to disappear.

Raoul helped Christine down from the carriage.

"When should I come back, Monsieur?" Jacques asked.

Taking Christine by the hand and leading her towards the chapel, Raoul replied, "Wait here. We shouldn't be more than a quarter of an hour."

"Yes, Monsieur."

When Christine and Raoul entered the chapel, they saw that Mamma Valerius was already waiting for them there. She was to be their only witness before God, except for three elderly nuns. The priest looked up when he heard the large wooden door close.

"My children, come, come," he beckoned cheerfully. Christine and Raoul obeyed. The priest was a friendly looking man. He was on the plump side and had rosy red cheeks.

Christine and Raoul stood before him at the altar as he said the marriage mass. They said the vows, and Raoul produced the rings from his pocket. As they slipped the rings on each other's finger, Christine and Raoul could hear the soft tears of Mamma Valerius behind them.

Just after Raoul placed the gold band on Christine's finger, he froze. Christine looked up. The priest was frozen too, as were the nuns and Mamma Valerius. She was the only person in the room who had free mobility. Christine was trying furiously to shake Raoul out of his stationary position, when she heard the chapel doors open and then softly click closed. Immediately, she lifted her head to see who had come in. Standing at the end of the aisle between the pews was Erik, his usual black mask nowhere to be found. Christine felt for a moment as if she had frozen too, staring at the horrible corpse who was making his way towards her. Erik began to sing softly:

"It's an old story, but new for me

two men love the same girl- you.

You've already chosen. I am the loser.

I'm only a guest at your wedding.

You turn away from me, but you only pretend.

You would be loyal to him but you have been wanting me.

He holds you in his arms, but you smile at me."

Now he was inches away from her. He reached up and gently caressed her cheek.

"And where that will lead to, you know as well as I do."

Christine jerked away from him, fixing her gaze on Raoul and trying to find some help in his dull eyes. Erik's fury boiled. He seized her shoulders roughly and sang bitterly:

"The last dance belongs to me!

The last dance I dance only with you!"

He pulled Christine close to him in a dance hold and forced her through the steps of the waltz.

"Erik!" she cried. He just let out an evil laugh and continued to force her through the waltz, whirling her around the church. Finally Erik stopped dancing, allow he continued to hold Christine up against him. Casually, he continued his song:

"Time becomes old and tiresome.

The wine becomes stale.

The air is sultry and stifling

In this Hall of Mirrors.

Invisible eyes look at us

While everyone waits for the rendezvous."

Once again, Erik angrily sang the chorus, all the meanwhile exploring Christine's body, much to her horror. She implored him to stop, but he only laughed and continued running his hands over her. She let out a moan, against her better judgment, and a malicious grimace spread over Erik's face. He wrapped his arms around Christine and sang the final verse seductively into her ear:

"And I am waiting in the dark, and always look at you

and seem the big loser,

but I know I will win

the last dance!"

And as soon as Erik released Christine, he was gone without a trace.

A/N: Please R&R! Pretty please?

The song that Erik sings is "Der Letze Tanz (The Last Dance)" from **_Elisabeth_**. Many thanks to Stacy's Musical Village for providing me with the English translation!


	4. Grounded

**Disclaimer: I do not own POTO or Elisabeth.**

**Chapter Four**

**Grounded**

After Erik disappeared, everyone unfroze. Christine was still standing in the middle of the aisle, still dazed from what had just happened.

"Christine," Raoul called, "what are you doing?"

She sharply turned around and ran into his arms. "Didn't you see, Raoul? Erik was here!"

He looked down at his bride with concern. He held her tighter and cooed, "We need to get you away from here. When we are in Sweden, you shall finally be free of the monster."

"No, I won't, Raoul! He's… He's…" By now everyone, expect Mamma Valerius, who was still wrapped up in her own little world, was staring at Christine as if she was a madwoman.

"Calm down, Christine. I will protect you. I will see to it that you are safe." The priest gave Raoul a quizzical look. "She is fine, Father. It's probably just the excitement."

"As you say, Monsieur," the priest rejoined, still unconvinced. "You may go now. God bless you both, my children." He made the sign of the cross above them both, and then turned to Christine and gave her a second blessing.

Raoul and Christine exited the church, followed by Mamma Valerius. The newlyweds climbed into their carriage, and Mamma Valerius, with a last word of joy, climbed into the other carriage, which Raoul had sent for her.

For a while, the couple sat in total silence, a few feet away from each other. Raoul breeched the space between himself and Christine by placing his hand tenderly on her arm and asked with equal gentleness, "What is wrong, Christine?"

"Nothing. It must have been the excitement, just like you said, dear." She forced a small smile onto her lips and embraced her husband.

"I love you, Christine," Raoul cooed, stroking her curls.

"I love you too, Raoul."

Raoul pulled away from Christine and asked, "Are you happy to be returning to Sweden?"

"Of course." Her agitation was quickly forgotten as ecstasy replaced it. "It is the most beautiful country in the world, Raoul! I just know that you will love it there."

"I know I shall love a place so dear to you."

"I can't wait to go back. I haven't set foot on Swedish soil since I was eight."

The two carriages stopped in front of the de Chagny mansion. Raoul helped Christine out, and then walked over to the other carriage to help Mamma Valerius out.

Mamma Valerius gasped as she stood beside Christine, "Such a grand place, Christine! Are you sure you want to leave all this behind for Sweden?" For a moment, Christine asked herself why she was leaving again. Then she remembered the reason- Erik. For a brief time, she had forgotten all about him, but now his memory came through, clearer than ever.

"Yes, Mamma, I am quite sure," Christine replied gravely.

Raoul asked, heading towards the door, "Let us go inside. Armand should have lunch ready for us." Christine took her husband's outstretched hand and followed him inside, with Mamma Valerius trailing behind. Servants were still scurrying about the dining room table, setting out the platters. From down the hall one could hear them as they gossiped between themselves.

"Why do you think the comte wanted a meal at such an odd time? It's only ten o'clock."

"Who knows?"

"Won't his sisters think it odd?"

"You are quite dull. Don't you know that they're all vacationing at the sea now?"

"I almost forgot. Still, that doesn't answer my question."

A maid who had been going about her work silently know spoke up. "It's not nice to gossip about the comte."

"Be quiet, Adele."

"Quick, the comte's coming. Don't you hear?" And the servants dispersed.

Upon seeing the small banquet that had been set out, Mamma Valerius gasped once again and asked Christine, "Are you sure that you want to leave this grand place?"

"I am quite sure, Mamma."

Christine scooped a few meager servings of the fine food on her plate, but couldn't bring herself to eat it. Mamma Valerius managed to lighten her mood a bit, though. The old lady obviously wanted to devour the fine dishes like a wild animal; you could see it in her eyes. However, her breading wouldn't allow her to do so. Occasionally, she would break down and shove a hearty spoonful into her small mouth. After this unexpected comical relief, Christine was able to eat normally.

At quarter to eleven, Raoul rose and announced that they would need to leave for the train station soon. Christine hurried to her room where Elaine helped her into her stiff traveling gown. After picking up the carpetbag that contained her personal belongings (her trunk was already loaded onto the carriage), Christine joined Raoul and Mamma Valerius in the foyer of the mansion.

"Are we all ready to leave, then?" Raoul asked as Christine descended the stairs.

"Yes."

Raoul handed an envelope to the butler and told him to give it to his sisters when they returned from their vacation. Then, the little party piled into the carriage and set off for the train station.

Christine glimpsed her dainty gold watch. "It's nearly quarter after eleven," she cried. "We must hurry!"

"I'm going as fast as I can," Jacques called, "but the streets are so crowded today."

"Calm down, Christine. We'll make it on time," Raoul said. Christine couldn't manage to calm down. She didn't want to spend one more night in Paris- she was afraid that Erik would come for her tonight, before her marriage to Raoul was consummated. She had to fly away now.

The train station was now in sight, and Christine relaxed a little. She kept telling herself that they would be able to catch the train. Suddenly, the sound of a train whistle filled the air. Christine frantically looked at her watch. It was eleven-fifteen on the dot. The train was leaving.

"Raoul, that's our train!"

"No it isn't, Christine. It's only eleven-ten. We'll make it yet."

"My watch says eleven-fifteen."

"Then it's fast."

"If you say so…" The carriage came to the train station. Raoul hopped out and helped Christine and Mamma Valerius get down. They made their way to the platform and sat on a bench. They waited there for ten minutes. It was now eleven-twenty (according to Raoul's watch).

"The train will be here soon," Raoul declared, "it is just a little late." A half hour passed. Raoul leaned over to a man standing beside them and asked, "Where are you headed?"

"Why do you want to know!" the man growled irately. Raoul decided that the man would be of no use to him, so he got up to go ask someone in the office

"I'll be right back," he told Christine. He quickly made his way to the office and asked one of the workers what time the train for Sweden was leaving.

"It's already gone. It left some fifty minutes ago."

"When will the next train to Sweden leave?"

"There's no more today."

"Then when would a train be leaving tomorrow?"

"To Sweden? At eleven o'clock in the morning and three-twenty in the afternoon."

"I'll take three tickets for the three-twenty train."

The worker ripped off three tickets from a long roll and said, "Sixty francs." Raoul handed him the money, received his tickets, and went back to tell Christine and Mamma Valerius the news.

A/N: Please R&R! Flames are welcome.


	5. The Wedding Night

**Disclaimer: I do not own POTO or Elisabeth.**

**Chapter Five**

**The Wedding Night**

"What?" Christine cried. Maybe she hadn't heard Raoul right. After all, it was quite noisy in the train station.

"We missed the train to Sweden. We'll have to wait for the next train tomorrow." A strong gust of wind blew threw the train station. "It's cold. We better go back home."

Mamma Valerius got up from the bench and began to hobble away. Christine simply clutched her cloak tightly around her and stayed put. She didn't want to go. She was certain that Erik would be waiting for her back at the mansion.

"Come, Christine," Raoul beckoned, "you'll catch your death."

An image of Erik flashed into Christine's mind. She thought out loud, "You're right. I must go. Staying here would only be doing what _he_ would want."

"What did you say, Christine?" Raoul asked.

"Nothing, dear." She smiled and linked arms with him. Raoul smiled also and proudly escorted his pretty wife back to the carriage, with Mamma Valerius following closely behind.

Christine sat on the large, four-poster bed, frantically playing with the lace trimming on her nightgown. Elaine was gone, and now she was left alone in her bedroom. Raoul would come out of this personal dressing room shortly. Several female servants passed by her door and talked about how nervous (or excited) they had been on their wedding night. Christine's eyes darted about the room, looking for a black-clad figure that might step out of the shadows. She wanted to be on her guard, if Erik should chose to show himself that night.

The door opened and Christine started. She let out a sigh of relief when Raoul, in his dressing shirt, entered the room.

"Happy to see me?" he asked, opening his arms wide and inviting a hug. Christine timidly went up and allowed him to enclose her in his arms. "I love you," Raoul sighed happily.

"I love you, too." And they both cast a glance towards the bed.

Much to Christine's surprise, Erik didn't not make an appearance that night. Raoul was quickly able to take her mind off Erik. Once the couple had fallen asleep, though, muffled sobs came from out on the balcony. A pair of large yellow orbs gazed on Christine's sleeping form, and a voice clearly rang through the silent streets of Paris, "She will yet be mine!"

A/N: Sorry this chapter is so short. Please R&R.


	6. Beate

**Disclaimer: I do not own POTO or Elisabeth.**

**Chapter Six**

**Beate **

The train jerked to a stop. Christine looked happily at the familiar land where she had spent her childhood. The setting sun set a beautiful light over the grass. All was so beautiful.

"Sweden!" Mamma Valerius exclaimed. "We're finally in Sweden!"

Christine gave Raoul's hand a quick squeeze. After surveying the landscape, he whispered in his wife's ear, "It's just as beautiful as you said it was." Wrapped in their own little cocoon of bliss, Christine, Raoul, and Mamma Valerius stepped off the train and started walking into the town ahead of them. Christine had practically forgotten about Erik, and she was more than happy to be on Raoul's arm. The last night had been magical. It had been quite easy to forget about Erik.

A young woman, about Christine's age, accidentally bumped into the couple.

"Förlåtelse jag," the young woman said as she bent down to pick up the things that had fallen out of the basket she had been carrying. The woman looked up at Christine, and stopped her busying hands. She studied Christine's face and then finally asked, in Swedish, "Christine Daae, is that you?"

Christine, in turn, also studied the woman's face before exclaiming in Swedish, "Beate! I'm so glad to see you again." The two old friends embraced. Raoul looked on quizzically, trying to make out the conversation.

When the embrace had ended, Beate noticed Mamma Valerius. "Mrs. Valerius!"

"Beate, dear girl!" the old lady replied.

Beate noticed Raoul and asked Christine playfully, "And who might this be?"

"My husband."

"Congratulations!" Beate addressed Raoul, "How did you meet Christine, sir?" She was met with a confused stare.

Christine tapped Beate on the shoulder. "You'll have to pardon Raoul, he doesn't speak Swedish. I met him in France."

"Oh." A clock chimed six o'clock.

"I didn't realize how late it was! We ought to sup."

"I'll take you to Papa's inn. You, your husband, and Mrs. Valerius can eat something and then get to bed." Beate added mischievously, "And I suppose you want two rooms?"

"Beate!" Christine exclaimed.

"I just thought that it was logical," Beate responded innocently. "Come on," she beckoned as she started down the street again." Mamma Valerius eagerly followed, and Christine grabbed Raoul's hand and brought him along.

"We'll have to teach you Swedish," she said.

"I believe that I have the best teacher I could ever ask for right here," Raoul replied, planting a soft kiss on Christine's cheek.

In no time, the small party reached the Crackling Hearth Inn. Beate burst into the inn's great room and boisterously proclaimed, "Papa, Mamma, look who turned up! It's no other than Christine Daae, or should I say, Christine…"

"de Chagny," Christine said.

"Christine de Chagny!" The two owners of the inn, Mr. and Mrs. Svanbäck scurried out from the back room where they'd been working. They were both quite stout and rather short, unlike their ravishing, tall daughter.

"Christine!" Mrs. Svanbäck exclaimed. She then turned to Mamma Valerius and cried, "Sassa!"

"This is wonderful," Mr. Svanbäck declared. "It shall be just like old times." He shot his daughter a puzzled look upon seeing Raoul.

"He is Christine's husband, Papa. You don't have to worry."

"Oh, good."

Mrs. Svanbäck said hospitability, "You must be famished. Come sit. I've just finished a batch of beef stew." The party obeyed. Beate started to sit opposite Christine, but Mrs. Svanbäck stopped her. "You still have work to do, Beate. To the kitchen!"

"Later, after supper, we'll talk," Beate said as she scooted off to the kitchen. A few minutes later she returned with three bowls of hearty beef stew, three glasses, and a small pitcher of water and placed them on the table.

"This is all so wonderful," Christine sighed.

"Yes," Mamma Valerius replied.

"Do you like it here, Raoul?" Christine asked.

"Yes." The truth was, Raoul felt a bit like a stranger in Christine's homeland. He didn't speak the language, and he didn't know anyone aside from his wife and her benefactress. It was like watching a play. Raoul could see all that was happening, but couldn't interact with the characters, who didn't know he existed. He was on the outside looking in, and he couldn't figure out how to get penetrate the thin glass partition that seemed to separate him from everyone else.

"Your husband is wonderful, so handsome," Beate said. The whole of the inn was asleep, and now only Beate and Christine remained awake. They sat at a table in the great-room talking in muted tones by the flickering light of a single candle.

"I love him so much."

"How did you come to marry him, Christine?" Beate asked. "I should like to know. I mean, I'm not getting any younger."

A grave pallor set over Christine's face. "What I am about to tell you, you must never repeat to any living soul. Will you promise me that?"

"Of course! When we were young, we always told secrets and I am yet to tell a single one of those."

"All right." Christine sighed. "I can't tell you. Surely, you will think me mad."

"Tell!"

"No, Beate…"

"Christine, you know that I would never think you mad for telling the truth."

"It's horrible, Beate!"

"What?"

"What I'm about to tell you."

"Was marrying Raoul so horrible?"

"No, but how I came about marrying him was."

"Tell!"

"All right…" And Christine spilled to Beate the horrific experiences she'd had at the Opera Garnier. Christine was so caught up in the terror, that she was unable to stop the saga and even told Beate about her recent experiences with Erik new incarnation. Beate quickly made the sign of the cross.

"Lord bless you, Christine! You can't just sit around and let this happen to you. I know just what shall free you from Erik's grasp, Christine."

"Please, Beate, no witchcraft."

"You'll have to trust me. What time is it? Darn, it's past midnight. Tomorrow night, at the stroke of midnight, meet me in the yard behind the inn."

"But Beate…"

"Trust me!"

Christine looked at the small mantle clock and sighed. She couldn't go out and meet Beate tonight. She knew that her friend planned to meddle with witchcraft. Not only was witchcraft a sin, but it could also be very dangerous if one didn't execute the spells correctly. What if Beate knew how to execute the spells flawlessly? Then Christine didn't want anything to do with her either. That would mean that Beate sold her soul to Satan. She just couldn't imagine her friend doing that, though. It was five minutes to midnight. If Christine were to go meet Beate in the back yard, she would have to go now. She decided not to go. She snuggled up to Raoul and went asleep after saying a quick prayer for Beate's safety.

Meanwhile, the frigid air was biting at Beate's ankles. She wrapped her thin shawl tighter around her. Christine would show up any minute. She knew it.

A blood-curdling scream pierced the air. Christine jerked up in bed. She had only been asleep for a few minutes.

"Christine? Christine, are you all right?" Raoul said anxiously.

"Yes, I am all right. Someone nearby isn't, though." She immediately thought of Beate.

"Stay here, Christine. I'm going to go see what's wrong." Raoul took his pistol from the bedside table and journeyed downstairs. A few minutes later he came up and said gravely, "Your friend, Beate, is dead."

A/N: Quick translation: Förlåtelse jag means Pardon me in Swedish. Thanks Inter Tran!

Please R&R! Flames are welcome!


	7. Relax in My Arms

**Disclaimer: I do not own POTO or Elisabeth.**

A/N: For those who don't already know, I edited Chapter Six.

Another short chapter. Bad, bad, bad me! The next one will be longer- I promise!

**Chapter Seven**

**Relax in My Arms**

"Dona eis, domine," Christine responded with the rest of the small congregation that had gathered at Beate's funeral. She couldn't help but feel that she was to blame for her friend's death. Had she only gone down at midnight, she might have been able to save her.

Christine remembered part of the article in the local newspaper:

"Beate Svanbäck's death is one shrouded in mystery. All that was known of the case was that at exactly twelve midnight, Beate let out a scream and that was the end of her. Her scream woke her parents, who ran out to see what was wrong. Her body was found in the Crackling Hearth's back yard, slumped over a book of witchcraft. The strangest thing about Beate's death was that no sign of physical harm was ever found. There were no wounds of any kind, and there was no evidence of poison on the body or around the place where the body was found. The authorities believe that Beate froze to death."

A pretty good idea of how Beate met her end had already formed in Christine's mind. Her theory was horrible and defied the laws of modern science, but it made perfect sense to Christine. She knew that Erik had simply come down and taken away Beate's soul. His motives for the crime were obvious. Erik murdered Beate to convince Christine to give him what he wanted- which was something she wasn't prepared to give.

The funeral ended. Every slowly filed away as the undertaker began to cover the coffin with clumps of dirt.

Raoul gently placed his hand Christine's shoulder. "Come, Christine. You don't have to watch this."

"I just want to be alone with her for a while."

"I'll be at the inn." He softly pecked Christine's cheek and walked away.

Christine walked up to the grave slowly. The undertaker shot her a cantankerous look, but continued on with his work when she refused to move. Finally, the undertaker had covered the grave and he left the cemetery indifferently. Christine knelt by the headstone and traced Beate's name with her finger.

"I'm sorry," she murmured.

A hand rested on Christine's shoulder.

"Raoul, please go away," she said without turning around. The hand that was resting on her shoulder slid down her arm and took her hand. Any other sound disappeared as the person behind her began to sing soothingly:

"Don't despair,  
relax in my arms.

I want to comfort you.  
Escape and you will be free  
and all the fighting will be over.  
I want to take you away from space and time  
into a better reality."

Erik smiled as he helped Christine to her feet. His music had always entranced her, and it would continue to. Repeating the short song, he led her towards the black carriage at the cemetery gates.

Christine's mind became a battleground. Erik always sent her better judgment and some dark, aloof emotion that Christine couldn't name into a confusing war. Erik opened the door to the carriage. Christine tugged her hand out of his.

"No!"

A/N: Erik sang an excerpt from "Ich Will dir nu sagen (I just want to tell you)" from **_Elisabeth_**. Once again, many thanks go to Stacy's Musical Village for the English translation.

Please R&R! Flames are welcome!


	8. Of Dreams and Music

**Disclaimer: I do not own POTO or Elisabeth or Faust.**

A/N: Many thanks, Ripper de la Blackstaff, for all of your kind reviews.

**Chapter Eight**

**Of Dreams and Music**

Christine ran as hard as she could towards the inn. She knew that couldn't outrun Erik- it was physically impossible. He was so much stronger than her. All that Christine could hope for was that she'd had a head start. The sound of footsteps drew closer and closer; she swore that she could feel Erik's hand brushing against her shoulder. Finally, she was standing in front of the Crackling Hearth's door. She lunged for the knob, but her hand slipped and she fell to the ground. Erik's figure stood triumphant over her. She suddenly felt lightheaded, and all went dark.

Christine's eyes fluttered upon. She surveyed her surroundings and was happy to find the she was laid out on the bed in her room at the Crackling Hearth and not wherever Erik might have taken her. Christine thought, It was probably just a dream. Later today I will attend Beate's funeral. That incident never happened.

She turned over and called, "Ra… Raoul?"

"Christine!" Her husband came rushing over from the fireplace, where he'd been pacing nervously.

"What happened?" Christine asked.

"I don't know myself. You were found, unconscious, on the inn porch."

"So it wasn't a dream…"

"What wasn't a dream, dear?"

Christine thought to tell Raoul of her experience but opted not to. She remembered how he'd reacted when she'd tried to tell him about Erik's little visit to her wedding. "Nothing."

"I think we ought to buy a house," Christine said one night as she sat beside Raoul in front of the small fireplace in their room. They'd resided in the Crackling Hearth for about three weeks. "It's time we get out on our own. Since I was a little girl I so looked forward to having a house of my own. Besides, we can't start a family in an inn." She squeezed Raoul's hand excitedly.

"You're right, Christine. Where would you like to live, a mansion?"

Thoughts of her rather dismal life in the de Chagny mansion returned to Christine's mind. "No. Mansions are entirely out of the question. I would prefer just a simple cottage."

"Then a simple cottage you'll have." The next day, Raoul and Christine went out on a house hunt. Christine acted as translator between Raoul and the sellers. Finally, the couple was able to decide on a home. It wasn't a cottage. Instead the couple decided upon a charming townhouse on the edge of town.

"If we want to start a family," Raoul said, "then we shall need a decent sized house. Cottages are quaint, but they're meant for older people whose children are out and married, not a young couple trying to start a family." Christine could help but agree. When the owner handed Raoul the key, he couldn't help but feel a sense of pride. He had a pretty wife by his side and a house to call his own. Seeing Raoul's pride brought back a painful memory to Christine. This was all that Erik had ever wanted. Though Christine liked to believe that she could feel nothing but contempt for such a man as Erik, she sometimes felt a pang of guilt for hurting him so much. What Erik had asked of her was quite easy. In three weeks she'd given all that to Raoul. Then again, Raoul wasn't Erik.

"How do you do?"

"God dag?"

"I am fine."

"JAG er böter."

"You're really doing good with these lessons," Christine said.

Raoul responded, "Du er verkligen… I don't believe I know how to say that yet."

Christine laughed. "I meant that I'm really proud of you, Raoul. You didn't have to say that in Swedish."

"Oh." He gave Christine a peck on the cheek. "I love you."

"I love you too."

It was about a month since Christine and Raoul had been living in their townhome. They had adjusted to married life quite well. Raoul received a steady income from the de Chagny fortune that would allow them to live in modest comfort for the rest of their lives.

Raoul worked hard to learn Swedish so that he might cease to use his wife as a translator. He felt sort of foolish. Of course, Raoul was proud of Christine's fluency in languages, but whoever he was talking to would give him an odd sort of look that bothered him. The person's look seemed to insult him and call him a fool. Raoul knew that he was no fool and wouldn't be branded as one.

The piano that rested in the corner of the parlor seemed to mock Christine. It had been a gift from Raoul, celebrating the twenty-second anniversary of her birthday. He had said that he knew that she liked to sing and that she might need some accompaniment. Little did Raoul know, Christine couldn't play more than a simple lullaby on the piano. Besides, Christine couldn't bring herself to sing any more. She hadn't sung a note since the fatal performance.

Raoul entered the parlor. "Sing something, Christine," he beseeched.

"I cannot," Christine said indifferently.

"Please, Christine. I haven't heard your beautiful voice for so long."

"I promised only to sing for Erik. If I sang I know that I would not be singing for him."

"All your promises to that monster are invalid now. You've already broken some."

"I suppose your right."

"Then please sing!"

Christine took a deep breath and began to sing. It was the Jewel Song from **Faust**. The song was painful to sing, since **Faust** had been the opera mainly played at the Opera Garnier during the tragedy, but she sang it anyway, because it was the only song that came to mind. The song came out of her mouth lacking passion and splendor, but Christine tried her hardest not to notice. When Christine had finished, Raoul clapped his hands, "Bravo! Bravo!" Christine sighed. He'd never know the difference between just singing and singing with passion.

The rest of the evening was spent in idle conversation. They talked of the weather and of their plans for the upcoming month. A typical evening in the de Chagny household passed like this. When the clock struck twelve, the couple would retire to bed. Twelve came, and Raoul and Christine went to bed.

Christine went into her dressing room to change into her nightgown. She went over to the armoire, opened a drawer, and removed the nightdress. Once she had changed, Christine started out to the bedroom. As she moved towards the door, her gaze fell on her vanity where an odd box was set. It was finely crafted. The exterior of the box was beautifully painted with flowers, mostly roses. On the lid, in gold leafing, was a large C. Her curiosity piqued, she went over and examined it. Christine carefully lifted the lid, as if expecting something dreadful to happen. Instead of something dreadful, music floated out of the box. It was a gorgeous melody that Christine immediately recognized. Erik had played it for her once, during the first fortnight she'd spent with him in the house on the lake. It was entitled "Christine."

"This is you, put in to music," Erik said when Christine remarked on how beautiful it was. "I'm afraid, though, that nothing can accurately capture your beauty and personality, Christine." Christine looked down at the box and became lost in the melody. When she finally left the dressing room and got into bed beside Raoul, "Christine" played on in her head.

A/N: Please R&R!


	9. Family Affairs

**Disclaimer: I do not own POTO or Elisabeth.**

A/N: Okay, there is minor Raoul bashing in this chapter. If I didn't do a little bit of bashing the story couldn't develop the way I want it too.

**Chapter Nine**

**Family Affairs**

"Raoul!" Christine called happily as she made her way into Raoul's study. Even though he had left Paris, Raoul remained the Comte de Chagny and he still had his duties. He would've loved to set the title aside, but for some reason his sisters refused to cut the family ties. So, Raoul remained with his title and duties.

As his wife entered the room, Raoul looked up from his paperwork and replied, "What is it, Christine?"

"I'm pregnant!" She clapped her hands gleefully, as she had when she first came up with the idea of a secret engagement back at the opera.

"Christine, really?"

"Yes!"

"I'm so happy!"

XXX

"What shall we name the baby?" Christine asked.

Raoul leaned back in his chair. "I'll leave that decision to you, my dear. I'm no good at choosing names."

"I was thinking that if we had a girl, we'd name her Sibylle, and if we had a boy we would name him after you."

"No, I'd rather not have our child named after me."

"Why?"

"I really don't know. I just didn't want a child named after me…"

"All right.

"What about Sibylle and… and… and Vladen?"

"Vladen? Where did you derive that name from?"

"There was a ballet boy at the opera named Vladen. I always liked the sound of that name."

"Wouldn't you rather forget about the opera…"

"The name has nothing to do with the opera. I just like the sound. Besides, it sounds more Swedish than any of the other names I was thinking of."

XXX

Raoul returned home to the sound of screaming coming from the bedroom. He immediately dashed up the stairs. He met a neighbor-woman who had become Christine's good friend, a Mrs. Ek.

"Madam, by god, please tell me what is happening!"

"Your wife is having a baby, sir!"

"God!" Raoul tried to barge into the bedroom, but Mrs. Ek held him back with a strength he never would've expected.

"You can't go in there. The doctor won't allow it. Go into the parlor and wait there. I'll let you know when the baby has been born." Raoul shrank under Mrs. Ek's amazing authority and scurried off to the parlor like a schoolboy.

Soon, Raoul's timidity dissolved into worry. He paced up and down the parlor's pine floor. From time to time Christine's screeches of pain reached echoed through the whole townhouse. At each scream, Raoul jumped. He'd caused her this pain. Sometimes he wondered if it was all worth it. Suddenly, there was a silence, followed by a long wail. Mrs. Ek, no longer infuriated, glided into the parlor.

With a broad smile on her face, the she declared, "Sir, your son is born!" Raoul dashed past Mrs. Ek and up the stairs to the bedroom. He threw open the door and looked at the sight before him. Christine lay crumbled on the bed, flushed and looking like a horrible mess, but in her arms lay a smiling, happy baby boy. He took the baby from Christine's arms and cradled it gingerly. He kissed Christine all over her face.

The doctor came up behind Raoul and placed his hand on his shoulder. "Your wife is a very strong woman," he began. "You don't know how long we came to losing both her and this little fellow during the birth." Raoul hardly heard a word the doctor said- his attention was focused entirely on the baby that he cradled in his arms. He was a beautiful baby.

Raoul kissed Christine again and said, "You are a wonder!"

XXX

"Mamma!" The golden-haired boy hobbled towards his parents.

"That's right, Vladen, come to Mommy," Christine cooed, stretching her arms out towards her son.

"Mamma!" Vladen lunged into Christine's arms.

Mrs. Ek smiled at the boy. "He's such a handsome boy! He'll grow up to be a fine young man some day."

"He's very smart, too, for a two-year-old," Mrs. Svanbäck commented.

"I agree," rejoined another lady in the circle.

XXX

Christine stared at Raoul angrily. "Boarding school in Paris! Vladen doesn't even know French!"

"My sister, Dacio, suggested it, Christine. I think it's a good idea."

"A good idea! I can't believe you're saying that, Raoul! I thought you loved our son!"

"I do love Vladen very much, you know that."

"And yet you're will to send him in to that upper class prison!" Christine went into the bedroom and slammed the door. Next came the sound of the lock clicking.

"Christine, open up!"

"No!"

The next morning, a knock came on Christine's door. "Go away, Raoul."

"Mamma?"

"Vladen! Here I come." She unlocked the door and admitted her son. He clung to her tightly.

"Mamma, Daddy says that tomorrow I have to go to this place called boarding school. He has me packing my bags already. I don't want to go! Tell Daddy not to make me go."

"I won't let you go, Vladen. Don't worry." She looked out the window. "Look, Nels is coming down the street. Why don't you go play with him?"

"All right, Mamma." He went to the door, but turned around when he was on the threshold. "Just promise that you won't let Daddy send me to boarding school."

"I promise."

When Vladen had left, Christine sat down at her secretary and began to write:

_My dearest sister-in-law,_

_Please refrain from manipulating my husband…_

A/N: Please R&R!


	10. The Ultimatum

**Disclaimer: I do not own POTO.**

A/N: Another chapter up. Many thanks to all my wonderful reviewers!

**Chapter Ten**

**The Ultimatum**

Once Vladen was off playing with Nels and out of the house, Christine barged into Raoul's study.

"Good morning, Christine," Raoul said cheerfully.

"Raoul, you are not sending Vladen to boarding school," Christine declared coldly.

"Now, Christine, I believe that it is the best…"

"Your sister believes that it is best!" Christine shouted, getting angry. "Your sister controls you!"

"That's not true, Christine."

"The thing is, Raoul, that it is true, and you are completely blind to it!"

"Christine, I am my own man-"

"Listen, Raoul, I offer you an ultimatum. I can't stand Dacio. Now it's her or me! If you send Vladen off to that horrid place they call boarding school, you will be without a wife."

Raoul jumped up from his seat. "Calm down now, Christine. You're acting like _him._"

Christine gathered up her skirts and headed back for the door. "Maybe I made the wrong choice." She barged out of the room. Her husband looked after her as she stormed down the hall and sighed. Where was the innocent girl who'd clung to him beneath the mighty Apollo? The one who had looked towards him for guidance? Married life seemed to have turned the beautiful girl into a stunning woman. With each passing day, Christine matured and became more independent. As Christine became more adult, Raoul felt as if she didn't need to cling to him anymore. He felt unwanted.

The bedroom door remained locked the entire day. Anyone passing by could hear a soft melody playing repeatedly on the other side of the door.

Eventually, Vladen came home from playing with Nels. The first thing he did was run to find his mother. He ran through the halls calling, "Mamma! Mamma!"

The staunch housekeeper (the only servant Christine and Raoul kept) scolded, "Be quiet, boy!"

"Where's Mamma?" he asked.

"Your mother went and locked herself in her room. Bad, bad woman."

"Don't ever say that about Mamma!" The housekeeper pushed him aside and continued dusting the porcelain figures on the parlor mantelpiece.

Six o'clock came- suppertime. Christine didn't take the other meal that she was offered at twelve, but Raoul hoped that if he brought the dinner tray in himself she would be rational.

Raoul rapped lightly on the door and called, "Christine, I've brought you some dinner."

Any hope that remained in Raoul's mind that Christine might be civil was dashed with her cold reply, "Go away."

"Can't we discuss this rationally?"

"No." Raoul's temper rarely flared, but Christine's obstinacy was beginning to anger him.

"Well, Vladen is going off to boarding school tomorrow morning!" Christine tried to make a snappish comment in reply, but couldn't come up with one. Raoul stormed out to the dining room and ate his dinner alone. After eating he retired immediately to a makeshift bed fashioned out of a sofa.

Christine's night was a hard one consisting of tossing and turning. She felt awful about the things she'd said to Raoul, but also felt she was correct and some ways. "Fighting for Vladen may be the best thing I can do," she murmured.

When morning came, Christine was quick to rise. She wanted to beat Raoul to the punch and keep him from sending Vladen to boarding school. As Christine hastily shed her kimono, she caught movement outside her window. Much to her dismay, a carriage was pulling out into the street.

"Vladen! Vladen!" she cried, running down the staircase.

The housekeeper scolded Christine as if she were a child, "Stop all that racket! The rascal has gone off to boarding school."

Christine's dismay morphed into rage as she stormed up to Raoul's study, where she found him, as usual, seated at his desk. Raoul started when Christine flung open the door.

"Christine!" Raoul exclaimed.

"It's over, Raoul!"

"What do you mean?"

"It's over, Raoul. Sending my son away was the last straw!"

"Calm down, Christine. Vladen's going to boarding school was all for the best."

"The best! Perhaps it's best for you, but not for me! Do you even think of your wife anymore? Well, I'm going to file for divorce."

"You don't even have a lawyer, Christine."

"I'll get one!" With a whirl of skirts and a loud slam, she was gone.

When Christine reached her bedroom, she continued to get dressed. She'd meant what she said, she was going to go out and get a lawyer, and then file for divorce. Before Christine could even take off her nightgown, though, a figure emerged from the shadows. It crept closer to Christine sadly singing:

"How often did I wait for you to talk to me?  
How did I hope for you to break the silence?  
But you are scared because we are so much alike  
So tired of a world which is slowly beginning to die."

If I would be your mirror you could see yourself in me  
then it would not be so hard for you to understand  
what I don't say.  
You will turn around because you see yourself in me."

Cautiously, Christine did as the song commanded and turned around. "Erik…" she murmured.

"Christine…" he rejoined in a smooth voice. He slid one arm around Christine's waist and pulled her closer to him. She made no resistance at all, eagerly falling into Erik's embrace.

"What are you doing here?" she asked in a weary voice. Erik chuckled and stroked her golden curls. Over and over again he whispered softy, "Christine… Christine… Christine…" Erik reached one hand behind his head, undid the cord holding his mask in place, and let it fall to the floor. He made a move to kiss her, and, for a moment, Christine almost allowed it to happen. She didn't want to become dependent on Erik, though. She hadn't fought for independence from Raoul for nothing. Christine writhed away and cried, "Go! I don't need you now! Go!"

A/N: Erik sung an excerpt from the song Wenn Ich Dein Spiegel War (If I would be your mirror) from **_Elisabeth_**. Once again, many thanks to Stacy's Musical Village for the English translation.


	11. A Friend

**Disclaimer: I do not own POTO or Elisabeth.**

A/N: Finally, the chapter's done! I've been really lazy nowadays when it comes to updating. Maybe I'll post faster if I get more reviews (hint, hint). Anyway, on with the story!

**Chapter Eleven**

**A Friend**

The tall brick building was exceptionally gloomy-looking. The past few months had been torture enough for Vladen, studying French under the ever-present eyes of his two aunts, Dacio and Mignon. His whole life had become learning French no leisure was ever allowed. Aside from this torment, Vladen was never permitted to speak of his mother. "Forget her," his aunts said. "She doesn't love you. We do." He just couldn't believe them though. Vladen had hoped that his life would improve at the boarding school, but there didn't seem much hope now.

The heavy door to the Paris Academy for Young Men swung open, and a staunch man, in his mid-forties, appeared in the doorway. Vladen clutched the handle of his carpetbag tighter.

"Ah, Madame Jetter and Madame Sommer," the man greeted. "Please, do come in." Vladen followed his aunts and the man into a hostilely formal parlor.

"It is so good to see you again, Monsieur Wischard," Dacio replied civilly as both she and Mignon sat on a settee.

"This must be the young man you were telling me of," Monsieur Wischard said, noticing Vladen.

"_Oui._" Monsieur Wischard circled Vladen like a predator eyeing up its dinner. The parlor was intolerably silent.

Finally, Monsieur Wischard said, "He will do." Another man, younger than Monsieur Wischard, stepped into the parlor. "Andrew, please show this young man to his room," he commanded.

"Of course, Monsieur Wischard," Andrew said. "Come," he beckoned indifferently.

"Now ladies, shall we discuss the price for your nephew's board?" Monsieur Wischard said as Vladen disappeared out of sight.

Vladen followed Andrew obediently up to a rather small, plain room with two bunk beds and a washstand squeezed in. Andrew pointed to the lower bunk on one of the beds and declared, "This is your bunk." Vladen plopped his carpetbag on the navy coverlet.

Andrew continued, "Dinner is at six o'clock sharp. You will stay here until then. Be sure you are in your uniform." He gestured to the plain brown pants and spotless white shirt that hung on a peg on the wall and left the room.

For a few moments, Vladen tried to come up with a method of amusing himself, but found himself at a loss for ideas. Passively, he got up from his spot on the bed, dressed himself in his school uniform, and sat right back down in the same place as before. He spent the rest of the day sitting the same place until a clock somewhere in the facility chimed six.

Anxious for a change of scenery, Vladen hurried down the stairs where he was greeted by a flock of schoolboys. The boy who seemed to be the eldest in the pack asked hostilely, "Who are _you_?"

Vladen replied in broken French, "My name is Vladen. How do you do?"

One of the other boys snickered and said, "Listen to his odd accent! Where are you from?"

"Sweden," Vladen said hesitantly.

"Up north! The land of the barbarians!"

"It's not the land of the barbarians!" Vladen's temper began to fume.

"Really, Barbarian?"

"Don't call me that!"

"Barbarian! Barbarian! Barbarian!"

"I said don't call me that!" Without thinking, Vladen sent his fist flying into the boy's face.

"Mamma!" the boy cried.

"God, what have you done?" the eldest exclaimed.

"Monsieur Wischard! Monsieur Wischard!" another boy called out. Within minutes, Monsieur Wischard was standing between Vladen and the other group of boys.

He said to the boy who'd called, "Hamlin, what is wr-" Seeing the boy Vladen had punched on the floor weeping he asked, "What happened to you, Aleron?"

Aleron whimpered, "He… He punched me! The barbarian!"

"I told you never to call me that!" Vladen said, his previously quelled rage beginning to fume again.

"Vladen!" Monsieur Wischard exclaimed. "Don't tell me you did this. This is not a good way to start off your stay here, young man."

"But-"

"No 'buts', young man." Monsieur Wischard motioned to a servant that stood in the corner. "Jean, take Aleron to the doctor." Jean obeyed. "As for you, young man…" He grabbed Vladen by the ear and dragged him down the hallway, through the kitchen, and to a door.

Monsieur Wischard opened the door with a loud creak and shoved Vladen into the dark room beyond. "Think about what you've done! I'll be back in the morning." The door slammed shut, and Vladen heard the click of the lock.

Once alone, Vladen realized the true nature of what he'd done. He immediately thought of his mother. "Mamma will not be happy…" All of a sudden, he thought, through the darkness, he heard the sound of his mother singing a sweet, happy song, one of the folk songs of Sweden. "Mamma!" he called into the darkness. "Mamma!"

"Don't call for her," a transfixing male voice responded.

"Mamma!" Vladen called again, frightened by the strange voice that was present in the room with him.

"She can't hear you," the same voice rejoined.

"Where is my mamma?" Vladen asked the voice, his voice trembling.

"Don't be afraid, Vladen…"

"How… How do you know my name?"

"Just consider me a friend."

"A friend?"

"Yes, a friend. I won't abandon you like the others have."

"Where are you? I can't see you."

"I'm here."

"Don't leave."

"I won't."

A/N: Please R&R!


	12. The Visit

**Disclaimer: I do not own POTO or Elisabeth.**

A/N: Now that my latest community theater show has opened, I have even less time to write- dang.

**Chapter Twelve**

**The Visit**

It was done. Christine had divorced him. The task had been so hard to carry out, seeing that she still had some sisterly affection for Raoul, but she realized that that was all she could ever be to him, a friend. Christine felt the need to just leave Sweden. Her only worry would be Mamma Valerius, who had been living peacefully in her own flat with a nurse since Raoul and Christine's marriage, but she knew that she would be all right.

Vladen eagerly accepted the letter from Monsieur Wischard. He'd been at the Paris Academy for young men for one month now and hadn't heard any word from either of his parents. He broke the seal and began to read:

_Dear Vladen,_

_I regret having not written you yet, but there isn't much to say except I love you, I love you, I love you. At this very moment I am preparing to leave to visit you at the Academy. I hope all is going well for you. See you soon._

_With all my love,_

_Mamma_

A voice resounded through the room, "Hello, Vladen."

"Hello, Ami," Vladen replied. He waved the letter from Christine in the air. "Look, look, Ami! Mamma is coming to visit me!" The room fell silent. "Ami?"

The voice replied, "I am here."

"I'm so glad Mamma is coming, Ami. You know how much I miss her."

"Yes, it will be wonderful." The voice's sinister tone scared Vladen.

"Ami, is something wrong?" He asked hesitantly.

"No," the voice replied, this time back to his composed air. The clock in the hall chimed six.

"I have to go. Good-bye, Ami."

"Good-bye, Vladen." Vladen walked out the door, leaving the letter behind. Erik emerged from his hiding place, picked up the letter, and smiled.

Two days later, a cab pulled up in front of the Paris Academy for Young Men. A woman, dressed in a brown traveling suit with a thick veil wrapped around her face stepped out. She dropped a few coins in the cabdriver's hand, and went up to the door. At the sound of the cab riding away, Vladen threw open his window and called, "Mamma! Mamma!"

Christine lifted her head. "Vladen, my darling!" She quickly knocked on the door. Monsieur Wischard opened it and asked, "How may I help you, Madame?"

"I am Vladen de Chagny's mother, Monsieur, and I would like very much to see him," Christine replied civilly.

"Of course," Monsieur Wischard bowed. He made a move to go get Vladen himself, but the boy was already at the foot of the stairs.

"Mamma!" he cried, running into Christine's arms. She ruffled his hair and pulled him close.

"Oh Vladen, how long it has been!"

Monsieur Wischard watched the reunion and said coldly, "Perhaps you would like to walk in the garden?"

"Yes!" Vladen cried, jumping to his feet. He took Christine's hand and eagerly led her out into the garden.

Once they were in the garden Vladen asked, bouncing up and down, "How is Nels? What about Grandmamma Valerius? How is everyone back home?"

"Fine, fine," Christine said with a laugh. "Now calm down. It's my turn to ask a question." She looked into his eyes and asked seriously, "Are you happy here?"

"The other boys ignore me and I dislike my teachers, but at least I have Ami."

"Ami?" Christine asked worriedly, "Who is Ami?"

"You must meet him! Come, I'll take you to him!" Vladen grabbed Christine's hand and brought her up to his bedroom. "Ami! Ami!" he called.

A smooth voice replied, "I'm here Vladen."

"Erik!" Christine cried, moving out towards the door.

"Who is Erik?" Vladen asked, surprised at his mother's sudden fear. "This is Ami. Ami, this is my mamma."

"So glad to see you, Madame," the voice replied.

Christine rejoined coldly, "I don't know whether I can say the same."

The hall clock rang. "I have to go to class, but I'll be back." Vladen walked out the door. Christine, dreading to be alone with Erik, hurried to follow him.

Erik's voice resounded through the room, "Stay, Christine."

"No." Erik emerged from his hiding place, reaching Christine just in time to seize her wrist.

"Let me go!" Erik dragged her away from the door and shut it. He released her wrist, and she fled to the door, only to find it locked.

"So you finally severed yourself from the boy," Erik said with a malicious smile.

"I don't know what you mean," Christine replied, turning around.

"You divorced him, **Mademoiselle**."

"No I didn't."

"It was all over your letter." He removed the piece of paper from his lapel and laughed. Slowly and gracefully he walked up to Christine. "Besides, you didn't seriously think that I wasn't watching you always, even if I wasn't standing there beside you?"

Christine felt herself unwillingly weakening, like melting butter. "No," she murmured. "No, I didn't."

He caressed her cheek and laughed, "Of course you didn't."

Christine closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. She'd missed Erik's voice, Erik's musical voice. How could she ever have lived without it…? "No!" Christine cried aloud, reproaching herself. She flew over to the window. Erik followed her. He whispered in her ear angerly, "If you do not make up your mind soon, I will be forced to leave you forever." Christine turned around, but Erik was gone.

A/N: Please R&R!

Friend


	13. Trouble

**Disclaimer: I do not own POTO or Elisabeth.**

A/N: Another chapter up. For some reason, I just could come up with a name for the chapter.

**Chapter 13**

Christine lay sprawled out on the chaise in the front room of the flat she'd been able to secure with the little money she had. Before her marriage, Christine had had a small store of money at the bank, which she had somehow forgotten to turn over to Raoul. Using this, she was able to create a modest living for herself. Dacio continued to pay for Vladen's schooling, much to Christine's joy. She knew that although she could afford a small flat, she had no were near what was needed to give Vladen the kind of schooling she wished for him to have. So the de Chagnys became blissfully ignorant of Christine's frequent visits to the Academy.

A sharp rap pulled Christine's nose out of the book she was reading. She walked across the room. She opened the door to see, of all people, Dacio standing in front of her, her nose turned up haughtily and her shoulders draped in an ermine wrap.

"Good afternoon, Dacio," Christine said with a forced politeness. "Please come in, sit down. Is there anything that I can get for you?"

Dacio didn't spend her time on pleasantries and immediately cried, "You have no claim to Vladen."

"What do you mean?" Christine asked defensively, letting her mask of gentility be stripped away.

"You divorced my brother, and that means that everything you have belongs to him- even the clothes you are wearing right now!"

"First of all, my clothing belongs entirely to me- every thing Raoul ever gave me I left behind. Second, I believe that I should have some custody of **my** child. I went through the pain of bringing him into this world, not Raoul."

"The law clearly states that the Comte de Chagny has full custody of the child." Dacio smiled sinisterly. "The law of the Catholic Church also forbids divorce." Christine's hand flew to the crucifix that hung around her neck. She was a very pious woman, and to hear that she had divorced her husband was almost as bad a deed as murder in her eyes.

Dacio continued, "I see you see things now as I do. You are nothing but a piece of trash. What my brother ever saw in you, I never know, but he is disillusioned now and wise. He will enforce any law necessary to get what he rightfully deserves from your vile clutches." With a dramatic whirl of her wrap, Dacio left the flat.

Like a sleepwalker, Christine into her bedroom and took out her hand mirror. She gazed at her reflection, examining her face as one might examine a piece of artwork. She tried to look beyond the flesh to see her soul. As most people count their blessings and virtues, Christine counted her sins. No that she thought about it, she had caused the death of Beate, Philippe, and Erik. It had happened unintentionally, but that thought didn't even enter Christine's head at the time.

From the café across the street came the sound of men singing:

"We sit around in the cafe and wait for the apocalypse  
Chatterers who don't know anything,  
they just sit there and kill time  
Again a year is gone-- LIKE I should care!!!"

Christine set down her hand mirror and screamed out the window down at the café. "My soul is black as night and when your apocalypse comes, I will be forever condemned." The singing immediately stopped, and Christine collapsed on the bed, crying.

There was a soft rap on the open door of the flat. "Madame," a young voice called uncertainly. Christine wiped the tears from her cheek with the back of her hand and sat up. "Madame," the voice called again. Christine slowly touched her feet to the ground and glided into the front room, where a boy dressed in the Academy uniform was standing.

"What do you want?" Christine asked sourly.

The boy hesitantly replied, "It's your… your son, he's been hurt."

"Vladen! Where is he?"

"At the school hospital." Christine threw a thin black cloak over her shoulders and left the flat in a whirl. Flustered, the boy followed her out and shut the door behind him.

When Christine reached the Academy hospital, it seemed impossible for her to get to Vladen- the place was crammed with people from wall to wall. Seeing her trouble, a nurse asked her kindly, "You're looking for Vladen de Chagny, aren't you, Madame?"

"_Oui_. Can you show me where he is?"

"Of course." The nurse led Christine down a drab, windowless corridor. Every once and a while there would be a pair of small sconces to light the way, making it very difficult to navigate through the hall without having the eyesight of a cat.

As they walked, the nurse explained all the commotion. "No one has been hurt, even minorly, at this school in a long time." She stopped in front of a door. "Here is Master Vladen's room." She knocked once hesitantly. "Thankfully no one is in there now. You can go on in."

Christine opened the door gingerly and saw Vladen sleeping on a bed in the center of the room. "Vladen, my darling!" Christine embraced him. He didn't seem too injured, although there were little beads of dried on the pillow.

"What happened to him?" Christine asked the nurse before she got a chance to leave.

"No one really knows. It seems to be a head injury. Right now, though, he is in a coma."

"A coma!" Christine hugged Vladen tighter. "You can't be serious."

"I am."

"Will he… will he wake up?"

"Only time will tell…"

"Is there anything you can do for him?"

"Nothing except waiting and praying." Her head hung low, the nurse left Christine alone. Christine slipped down to a kneeling position by the bed, holding Vladen's hand tenderly. A dark shadow appeared at Vladen's bedside. Christine slowly lifted her head in enough time to see Erik reaching out for her son. She found herself unable to cry out, although tears ran down her cheeks. Suddenly, Erik's eyes made contact with hers. Without word or warning, Erik disappeared, and Vladen's eyes fluttered open.

A/N: R&R!

The song the men in the café sing is an excerpt from "Die fröhliche Apokalypse (The Cheerful Apocalypse) from _Elisabeth._ Once again, many thanks to Stacy's Musical Village for the English translation!


	14. Gone

**Disclaimer: I do not own POTO or Elisabeth.**

A/N: Here's another chapter.

**Chapter Fourteen**

**Gone**

Vladen recovered from his mystery accident quite quickly. He never spoke of what happened to him. Sometimes in his sleep, though, he would call out, "When, Ami? When?" No one ever heard him though, for his roommates were always already fast asleep. 

XXX

The streets were practically empty when Christine stepped out onto the cobblestone. Gusts of wind blew against her, ripping the navy scarf from her head. She turned around and chased after it down the street.

A voice cried from behind her, "Don't worry, madam, I will fetch your scarf." The man that the voice belonged to darted past her and was able to quickly catch it. He walked back to her and placed the scarf in Christine's hands.

"Thank you, Mon-" Christine cut off as she found herself gazing into Raoul's eyes.

"Christine!" Raoul cried, startled. There was an awkward silence.

Finally Christine spoke, "Well, I suppose you have a knack for catching runaway scarves." Raoul laughed.

"So, how have you been?" he asked.

"Fine. What brings you to Paris?" Raoul's face darkened.

"A woman divorced me," he said tartly. "In fact, I believe you know her."

"I'm sorry, Raoul, but…"

"But?"

"But what I feel for you is simply friendship. Nothing more." Christine wrapped the scarf back around her head. The air had suddenly gotten colder. Or was it just Raoul's cold aura? Christine turned away, "I have to go now." She started down the street.

"Christine!" Raoul called. "Don't go."

Without stopping, Christine rejoined, "I have to."

"What if I don't want you to go?" he asked pleadingly.

"I would go anyway." Christine hurried out of the streets, abandoning whatever task she had left the flat to perform anyway. She quickly sought her flat, where Raoul didn't know where to find her. It was odd. A few years ago, she had thought of Raoul as a sort of safe haven. Now, she fled from him. Raoul's pitiful tone haunted her mind. Christine knew that she had hurt him so direly, but she wondered how she could help it. Their love was no more than that that existed between best friends or siblings. She didn't know what she would do if she lost him- but she couldn't love him as deeply as he wished she would.

For a few moments, Christine just lay sprawled out on her bed. The normally lumpy mattress felt fluffy beneath her, and the blankets felt so warm. She deserved some rest. Christine yawned and closed her eyes and drifted into sleep.

XXX

_The cool sea breeze felt delightful against Christine's cheeks. She'd always enjoyed standing in the middle of a light gust of wind that would send her curls soaring behind her and rustle her dress._

_A cheery voice called to her, "Christine!" She whipped around to see her father walking along the beach._

"_Papa!" she cried, running into his open arms. He twirled her around a few times before setting her down on the soft sand._

"_Will you tell me the story of Little Lotte, Papa?" Christine asked._

"_Of course." He picked up his fiddle and played a piece to underscore the legend. Then he began, "Little Lotte thought of everything and nothing…" Suddenly, he abruptly stopped playing. He fell silent, stood, and walked away._

_Christine ran after him. "Papa! Papa!" He did not turn around but continued moving away front his daughter indifferently. "Papa!" He disappeared into the mist that was swallowing the beach. "Come back…" Christine sunk down onto her knees._

_Then came the sound of footsteps. Christine lifted her head to see someone coming through the mist. "Papa!" she called out, but her papa didn't emerge from the mist. Instead, in front of her, stood Erik. He held out a hand to her and crooned softly:_

"_Don't despair,  
relax in my arms._

_I want to comfort you.  
Escape and you will be free  
and all the fighting will be over.  
I want to take you away from space and time  
into a better reality."_

_Christine jumped to her feet just as Erik disappeared back into the mist. This time, she pursued him, but the mist was far too thick for her. Occasionally, she would hear a snippet of his song. Trying to keep calm, Christine stopped and called for Erik. He had told her once that whenever she called for him he would come. For what seemed like hours, though, she stood in the center of the mist, and he never came._

XXX

"Erik…" Christine's eyelids fluttered open, and she wiped away the salty trails that were on her cheek.

Someone rapped on the door. Quickly, Christine checked in the mirror to be sure that she looked decent, and she answered the door. She was met with a man that she did not recognize.

The man bowed slightly and said, "Ma'am, I am sent here to inform you that, by order of the Comte de Chagny, you are never to see his son again under penalty of law."

A/N: Please R&R!


	15. Death At Work

**Disclaimer: I do not own POTO or Elisabeth.**

A/N: I edited Chapter 1 to make this chapter work. It was a quick revision but very important to the rest of the story: Erik doesn't kiss Christine.

**Chapter Fifteen**

**Death At Work**

"What?!" Christine cried. The messenger repeated his statement. "This can't be true! Raoul has no right-"

The messenger calmly protested, "The Comte de Chagny has every right to take total custody of his rightful son. I might add that it is in your very best interest, Mademoiselle, to obey this decree."

"Decree? You make him out to be some sort of king!"

"Mademoiselle, I do only as I'm told. Good-day." He walked away with cold indifference. Christine shut the door, and her anger immediately gave way to sorrow. She collapsed on the chaise, her tears flowing freely.

"I'll get him back," she assured herself. "Raoul can't keep Vladen away from me forever…" Deep inside, though, she knew that her chances in that time and age were extremely slim, and that very thought made her cry harder. Lurking in the shadows, her angel heard her.

XXX

Erik scoffed at the ornate decorations in the room in the Chagny mansion. He decided that the Chagny family was really entirely useless. He had no time to go over the reasons why the Chagny family was this way, though, for he had work to do.

Silently, he stalked up to the bed. Sometimes he missed the challenge involved in taking lives. Now he just had to kiss them and their immortal souls floated (or fell) to their place in eternity. Reaping souls was simply his job now. He had no time to get creative with their deaths.

Even though Erik had instructions on whose life to take he had bent the rules. He thought back to Christine's friend, Beate Svanbäck. She hadn't put up any fight and numbly allowed her demise to take place. When she finally realized what was happening and let out a screech, it was too late. He let out a dry laugh. She had been so foolish trying to cast that spell to rid Christine of him. Did she think that she and Christine, barely more than girls could've meddled with black magic successfully? Sometimes, he wished that Christine hadn't done the wise thing and had attempted the spell with Beate. Then he might have been obliged to take her soul too. Instead, he used Beate's passing as a sort of dark way to encourage Christine's coming to him. This time, Death had a different motive. The person lying on the bed in front of him had caused his Christine so much pain. He should've done this a long time ago.

After removing the mask from his face, Erik leaned over and planted a soft kiss on Dacio's lips. Now her soul could go to Hell were it belonged.

XXX

Christine numbly paged through _L'Epoque_ as she swallowed the piece of croissant that she was eating. On the second page was the headline:

**DACIO JETTER, SISTER OF THE COMTE de CHAGNY DIES MYSTERIOUSLY**

She gulped, but read on anyway.

"Yesterday morning, when Dacio's personal maid, Zoé, went to wake her mistress she was met with quite a surprise. Zoé says, "I came in, as usual, and said, 'Madame, it is time to wake.' What struck me as unusual was her failure to respond. Normally it woke her up easily. I repeated my greeting, this time a little louder. Still there was no response. Frightened, I went for Monsieur Jetter, Madame's husband. The first thing he did when entered the room was check for a pulse. There was none. A doctor came in and double-checked Monsieur Jetter and came to the conclusion. Madame had passed into immortality.' 

The cause of Madame Jetter's death is still unknown."

Christine dropped the paper on the table. People die everyday. In fact, it was actually a relief to know that Dacio wouldn't be around to make her life miserable anymore. Now it might be easier to get the slightest bit of custody on her son. She sighed and told her herself that she had nothing to do with it. Of course, she didn't believe herself.

"Christine…" She could feel Erik's presence right behind her. He took her hand and pressed it against his cheek, savoring the moment. Softly singing her name over and over again, the syllables flowing out of his mouth like a soothing waterfall, he used his free hand to bring her face until it was inches away from his. Uttering her name one last time, he went to steal the kiss that would make Christine forever his, but she had broke trance when his voice had faded.

"No, Erik, not now." She got up from the chair and walked into the front room.

He followed her persistently. "Come, my dear, do not tell me that you wish to avoid me? To avoid fate?"

"I don't want to die. Not yet, Erik."

Erik eyed Christine angrily. He seized her shoulders and turned her around. "I am tired of this little game of cat and mouse! If you refuse me now, you will spend your eternity alone. Are you quite aware that everyone dear to you has left you? Raoul has gone away already, and he has taken Vladen away with him, whatever friends you had back at the Opera Garnier hardly remember you at all, and even your dead father disapproves your conduct!"

"My… My papa?" Christine stammered. If she knew her papa he would love her no matter what. The Papa she remembered would never dream of abandoning her.

"Yes, your papa! He is disappointed with his little star. I am quite sure that you see now that without me you will be alone until the end of time."

"This is insane!" Christine cried finally, writhing out of Erik's grip. Now her anger had built up and would contain itself no longer. "I am my own woman, Monsieur Death. It would do you good to know that."

Erik replied coldly, "Goodbye, then, Mademoiselle."

A/N: Ha! Y'all thought I was going to kill off Raoul, didn't you?

Please R&R!


	16. Father and Son

**Disclaimer: I do not own POTO or Elisabeth.**

A/N: Thanks to everyone for your kind reviews! Here's another chapter. Extremely short, yes I know. I thought that it might be useful to paint this little portrait, though.

**Chapter Sixteen**

**Father and Son**

When Raoul heard of Dacio's untimely death, he was devastated. Growing up, Dacio had been his best mentor, next to Philippe. Dacio's word was law to him. He'd never gone against it, except for the time with Christine. _Christine…_ The count shook his head. Christine had played him for a fool. Dacio had told him that and had made him wise to her tricks. He was right to see to his son's education himself. Christine had been wrong to divorce him. He was right and Christine was wrong.

_Dacio_ was right and Christine was wrong. It had all been at Dacio's urging, but what's some help from a wise sister? She hadn't been taking over his life. The Comte de Chagny controlled his own life.

Dacio was _wrong_ and Christine was _right_. Raoul buried his face in his hands. Christine had never cheated him. He thought back on his actions. He'd ripped Christine's precious son from her arms and thrown him into that boarding school. He had to fix this mess. Christine would come running back into his arms when he admitted his mistake and made all things right.

"_What if I don't want you to go?"_

"_I would go anyway."_ Christine had said that she would just go away, despite his wishes. Raoul sighed. He had lost Christine.

As the servants prepared the little boy for bed, Vladen's voice echoed through the manor, "I hate England! Where's Mamma and Ami? They don't visit me anymore. Who do I have? Just the man in the study." Obviously, he wasn't on favorable terms with his son either. All day Vladen would complain about England and say that he missed Christine and his mysterious friend. As the sky darkened and Lady Night began spreading her blanket over the land, Raoul turned out the lamp and went to pay his son a call. It was about time they started to get to know each other.

Vladen laid in the darkness of his bedroom in the old English manor and hugged himself tightly. He'd liked Paris so much, but then the man who he knew to be his father had shown up and whisked him away to this awful place called England. He thought about Ami. Ami had promised to come take him and Mamma away to a wonderful place where he wouldn't have to go to the Academy or see his aunts and where he could play with Mamma all day long. Where was Ami now, when he needed him most? Why didn't Ami fulfill his promise? He called out into the dark for Ami but when the cry reached Ami's ears, he ignored it.

The door creaked open, and Raoul tiptoed in. Vladen shot up in bed. "Mamma? Ami?"

"No," Raoul answered softly. "It's your Papa."

"Oh." He sat on the edge of the bed, and Vladen turned his back on him.

"Vladen…" The little boy made no sound. Several times Raoul tried to coax a response from him, but after quarter of an hour had passed, he left Vladen to sleep.

A/N: Please R&R! Your reviews make my day!


	17. Nothing, Nothing, Nothing At All

**Disclaimer: I do not own POTO or Elisabeth.**

A/N: Please R&R!

**Chapter Seventeen**

**Nothing, Nothing, Nothing at All**

_Splash!_ A speeding carriage splattered Christine's cloak with mud

"And this is how I'm going to appear at the de Chagny mansion?" she mused aloud. Ripping the cloak off her shoulders, despite the chill in the air, and continued down the street.

The de Chagny mansion's façade loomed over her. Although Dacio was dead and Raoul had gone away, Madame Mignon Sommer still lived there with her family and Dacio's widowed husband and children (Mignon's husband had died a few years ago). The family had become the focus of gossip and urban legends. These yarns ranged from the mundane to the outrageous. Some said that Mignon, who hadn't really been seen in public since her sister's death, had gone mad and practiced the black arts. Christine scoffed. Such rumors weren't to be trusted.

Christine rung the little bell, and she was met by a haggard, old maid.

"What do you want?" the maid asked nervously.

"I would like to speak with Monsieur Jetter and Madame Sommer," Christine replied with a dignified air.

"You want to see Madame Sommer?" The maid formed the sign of the cross across her chest. "God bless you. Come in."

"What? Is something wrong with Madame Sommer?" The maid just formed the sign of the cross again and headed up the staircase. Christine presumed that she was to follow her.

As Christine surveyed her surroundings, she was surprised at how depressing the mansion seemed. The rooms and corridors were, of course, in impeccable condition, as a noble family is expected to keep their dwelling, but an air of sadness, anger, and possibly even fear lingered about. Most of the lights in the house were out. The light radiating from the chandelier in the grand foyer lighted the way almost entirely, for the curtains were drawn on all the windows. It seemed like night inside the mansion. Of course, one could only attribute this general gloom to Dacio's recent death. It was only logical.

Finally, they reached Raoul's former study. Pretty much all was just as it had been left when Christine and Raoul had flown away to Sweden: on the upper right corner of the intricately carved mahogany desk sat a stack of papers, the blotter still rested in the center area of desk's workspace, nearest to the imposing leather chair, the bookshelves that lined the walls were well stocked, and everything was meticulously organized. Pretty much all was the same, only now Monsieur Jetter sat behind the desk.

The maid murmured, as they crossed the threshold, "Monsieur."

Jetter's head snapped up, revealing a wan, tired face that had just paled. "Marie, why is she here?" he asked with the same nervousness that the maid had greeted Christine.

"Madam wishes to speak with you and Madame Sommer."

"Mademoiselle," Jetter said to Christine, "it might be best if you simply talk to me and not my sister-in-law."

"That will be fine with me."

"Then, please, have a seat." Christine daintily sat in the chair opposite Jetter. "What is it you'd like to talk to me about?"

"My son, Vladen de Chagny."

"Mademoiselle, I believe that you have been told many times that you have no custody on your son."

"I just wish to know where Raoul has taken him." Jetter's nervousness was rapidly melting away and being replaced by anger.

"That is none of your concern, Mademoiselle, and you should do as my esteemed late wife told you and stay out of the de Chagny family!"

A screech resounded through the mansion. Jetter's face paled, and so did Marie's. The screech came again, this time it seemed closer.

"I will kill that wretched enchantress!" Mignon burst into the room, panting, and her eyes were a bloodshot red. Her gaze fixed itself on Christine, staring her down with a frightening intensity. For a few moments, Mignon simply stood in threshold, like a lifeless, startling doll. Then, without warning, she lunged into Christine and started scratching at her, uttering horrible vows of revenge at her. Christine pried Mignon's fingers off her flesh and ran out of the room, but Mignon followed her, intent on finishing Christine off. She pursued Christine all over the mansion, until all of a sudden she dropped to the floor. Christine cautiously tiptoed up to her and checked for a pulse. Mignon was still alive, though currently unconscious. Gripping her cloak tightly around her, she ran toward the door, but stopped suddenly and looked at Mignon's crumbled figure. A poem came to her mind dealing with madness, one that no one ever really knew who wrote. It was in a collection of short poems and sonnets by someone who called herself merely "Sissi".

I wish I were like you,  
A straightjacket placed in a corset.  
One constricts only your body,  
One shackles my soul.  
I have struggled and defied all and what have I attained?  
Nothing, nothing, nothing at all.

Then the only explanation was the madness  
And the only escape was the collapse.  
The abyss tempted me.  
I want to let myself fall.  
Why do I shudder before the leap?  
If I were not damned to be Elisabeth,  
if I were Titania.  
I would laugh when they say, "She is crazy".  
I stand on the rope and the fear makes me sick,  
Then I look below and I see  
Nothing, nothing, nothing at all.

I grope further and with a searching step am always  
afraid of nothing, nothing, nothing at all.  
Probably only the madness makes one free.  
Surely the madness stained my courage.  
So I act strong and do what I do, otherwise  
this life was nothing more than deception, error, fraud.  
Other than nothing, nothing, nothing at all.

A sharp pang hit Christine's heart, and she felt as though the poem described her life more than Mignon's. What had her life been for anyway? At one time, a time that now seemed so far away, she had been happy. Then a certain voice had stepped in and turned her life upside down. She'd thought then that she had been on the brink of madness the first time she heard that voice. Unfortunately, she was proved to be quite sane. All of sudden, she was swept up into a dangerous game, one that naturally, she couldn't win. Once all the truths had been revealed, she'd wished to go away, go away to a place where she could perhaps have the best of worlds that she was living in- a world of passion and a world of security, and not have to worry about either world getting jealous. And now, she'd chosen the world of security, left the world of passion in the dust, and then left the world of security to rot, too. All she loved was taken away from her. Maybe a sort of madness would make her feel better. After all, her life contained nothing, nothing, nothing at all.

A/N: Okay, first of all, Empress Elisabeth (nicknamed "Sissi") did not write the poem featured here. These are actually the lyrics to "Nichts, nichts, gar nichts" (Nothing, nothing, nothing at all) from "Elisabeth". Michael Kunze wrote them. Elisabeth was, though, known to be fond of writing poems.

Wishing you all a happy holiday season,

x-forbiddenrose-x


	18. Calais and Cholera

**Disclaimer: I do not own POTO or Elisabeth.**

A/N: I'm not exactly sure how much a typical train ticket or ferry ticket would cost in 19th century France, so I simply guessed.

**Chapter Eighteen**

**Calais and Cholera **

The last bit of money went into paying that week's rent. All that lay ahead now was one month of scrambling to get enough money for the next rent that would fly by far too fast. In her concern for finding Vladen, Christine had completely forgotten that she was slowly but surely draining her small reserve of money away. With night having long since fallen, Christine lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling and brooding over the issue of her nonexistent funds. What if she would have to travel a considerable distance to reach Vladen? She wouldn't have the money. What could she do? There was a possibility at the Opera Garnier, but that wouldn't be the smartest thing to do, considering the scandal she'd been through. Perhaps Paris had forgotten the whole ordeal, but that was highly unlikely. Besides, Christine doubted she would ever be able to sing again with Erik. Erik… The name echoed in her head, and she frantically tried to shake it away. Somehow, through all of her worries, Christine eventually fell asleep.

XXX

Christine handed the old woman the parcel.

"Thank you, dearie," she croaked, dropping the coins into Christine's hand. Until she was able to find a permanent job, Christine had began taking odd jobs, like delivering old Madame Querry's mail once a week for a few sous. It was a bit degrading, seeing that Christine was a full-grown woman, running errands like a schoolboy. When someone laughed, Christine simply held her head a little higher and remembered that when her son was returned to her and she was back on her feet, it would all be worth it.

On her way back to her flat, Christine passed the de Chagny mansion's elaborate façade. She could've sworn that she saw a pair of bloodshot eyes staring out the window with a vicious fire. She shivered but figured that her own eyes were just playing tricks on her, although she did start walking just a little bit faster.

Two girls, probably just out of school (if they had ever gone to it), walked passed her and stared up at the mansion.

"It's a pity," one remarked, "that the Comte had to run away to England." Christine stopped dead in her tracks.

"It's all the fault of that wench he married," the other said.

"They say that that's why he's staying in Dover. The wench always loved the sea." That was all Christine needed to hear, for the girls launched into the reasons why they would've been better suited for Raoul. She took off down the street.

Within minutes of arriving at her flat, Christine's few possessions were stuffed into the carpetbag, which now sat beside the door, ready for departure. Christine counted up the money a month of doing odd jobs, which yielded to about twenty francs. A train ticket to Calais, from where she could board a ferry bound for Dover, cost about ten francs. Plus the few francs that remained in her bank account, that left plenty of money for the ferry. Without giving the slightest thought to any complications that might arise, Christine hurried off to purchase her ticket.

Unlike when she had last been to a train station, all went swimmingly, and she was scheduled to leave on the six a.m. train the next day.

A broad smile stretched across Christine's face. She could practically taste the sweet fruit of victory. If all went well, which she was almost certain it would, she would be able to have custody over her son, and she would have something in her life to bring her joy. For the first time in a while, Christine fell asleep without difficulty, her troubled mind at least a little at ease.

Before the sun had even risen the next day, Christine was up, preparing, so that she might be at the train station at promptly six a.m. and not miss the train. She made it to the train station with plenty of time. After at least half an hour of waiting, the thunderous sound of the train rumbling down the tracks filled the air. The call was given, and Christine climbed aboard.

The next four or so hours on the train were spent in careful thought. With Dover so close now, it was about time that Christine decided how she was to go about convincing Raoul that she should be able to have custody over Vladen. Raoul had turned cold in the years following their divorce, but Christine knew that deep down he still loved her. She figured that it might be possible to use that to her greatest advantage.

With a screech, the train came to a halt. All the passengers began filing off. When she stepped out onto the platform, Christine stopped and took a deep breath, savoring the salty sea air of Calais. It reminded her of happier times, when she and her father had romped by the sea in the summers with Doctor Valerius and "Mamma" Valerius never too far behind. She'd sing Swedish folk songs, accompanied by Daddy Daae's violin. Sometimes, Mamma Valerius, too, would raise her voice at the familiar tunes, but most of the times she would shed a quick tear for her homeland. Memories of the little boy who rescued her scarf when it was blown away to sea came to mind, but Christine tried to push them away.

It wasn't a far walk from the train station to the docks, where Christine found a little booth where she could purchase a ticket for the ferry. The money and the ticket were exchanged. The man who ran the booth looked up at her.

"You're not from around here, are you?" he asked.

"No," Christine replied warily. "Why?"

"You look too healthy to be from here."

"Too healthy?"

"Don't you know? Cholera has been spreading through the city like wildfire. You best take all precautions between today and tomorrow."

"I'll be sure to do that. Thank you, sir." She took her ticket and walked away, searching for someplace to spend the night.

As she walked farther into town, the cholera epidemic quickly became more evident to Christine. She took her handkerchief and put it over her mouth and nose to block out the stench. Large Xs were painted onto the doors of mansions and shanties alike. Waste lined the streets, as did the bodies of those poor, impoverished people who were dead or dying. Death was everywhere. Death. Christine knew that Erik must be lurking somewhere. The thought of his name tugged at her heart.

She passed onto a cleaner street that was lined with a few shops and some middle class houses. Fewer doors were marked with the sign of the cholera than the rest of the city. She read the signs over her head, looking for a hotel or boarding house of some kind. A window that she passed bore a sign reading "Room for Rent". There was no X painted on the door, so she knocked.

A middle-aged woman opened the door and asked, "May I help you?"

"I'm here about the room for rent."

"Of course, please come in." Christine walked into the fairly typical middle class parlor. "My name is Mrs. Ruel." She led Christine up a set of stairs.

"Is there anyone else in the house?" Christine asked.

Mrs. "It's all right. I've gotten used to the solitude." She looked back at Christine and smiled. "It will be nice having some company for once, though." Mrs. Ruel opened a door. "This is your room. You're welcome to stay as long as you want."

"Thank you, but I'll only be staying for the night."

"Ah well, I'm not surprised that you'd want to be out of this town. If you come down in half an hour, I'll have supper ready for you." Mrs. Ruel left, and Christine dropped her carpetbag down on the bed. She dug her small hand mirror out of it, looked at herself, and was aghast. Her reflection looked as beautiful as ever. It was amazing what a fleeting hope of joy could do to her.

XXX

Christine's petite figure stood in front of the open door, her eyes fixed upon the hallway. She could've sworn that she had seen something walk past the bedroom and up the stairs, something that was definitely not Mrs. Ruel.

"I'm just acting silly," she said, walking back into the bed and climbing in. Briefly she closed her eyes, but they snapped back open. The thing was back, lingering on the threshold of the open door. She shot up in bed, and the thing dashed away. Ever so cautiously, Christine slid up to the door and stuck her head outside into the dark hallway. There was nothing.

The next morning, Mrs. Ruel confessed something to Christine at breakfast. "My dear, I'm afraid I've lied to you. I am not the only one in this house. Well, I was not the only one in this house." The shadow popped into Christine's head.

"Who else was here?"

"My son was here, in the attic. He had the cholera, but I didn't want anyone to know. I feared that the city officials would do something to him, so I kept him a secret. And he died last night." And suddenly Christine knew who the "thing" was.

A/N: Longest chapter yet!

There you go, Erik has his little cameo. He'll be back full force in the next chapter or two.

Please R&R!


	19. In Which Descisions are Made

**Disclaimer: I do not own POTO or Elisabeth.**

A/N: I want to take a moment to thank you all again for the wonderful reviews! Please keep them coming!

**Chapter Nineteen**

**In Which Decisions Are Made**

As soon as breakfast was completed, Christine ran back up to her room and fetched her carpetbag.

"Are you going to fly away so soon?" Mrs. Ruel asked, her voice low with sadness.

"Unfortunately," Christine replied. "You have been a most gracious hostess. Thank you." She fished her purse out of her carpetbag. "How much do I owe you for board?"

"Nothing, dear. I lied to you, and the least I can offer is free board."

"No such of a thing." Several times Christine attempted to give Mrs. Ruel the money due for the board. Eventually, Christine relented, but she slipped her remaining sous on the table as she walked out the door.

When she walked through the streets toward the dock, Christine couldn't help but notice that more dead filled the streets than living. Last night, Death had most certainly reaped the souls of more than just that of the Ruel boy. Strangely, Christine didn't shiver, as she normally would have. Dying. It was the natural end to everything. It was the one thing that there was no possible escape from. She shook her head, as if to banish such morbid thoughts from her brain.

She reached the dock and boarded the ferry. It was crowded. No wonder, considering that there must be a mile-long line to get out of the cholera-infested city. The ferry started the few hour journey across the English Channel. During those passing few hours, she further thought over her plan.

The ferry docked in Dover, and Christine hurried out on to the streets with a sudden burst of energy. All the happiness she had felt when she first had found out that Raoul and Vladen were in Dover returned. It didn't take her long to discover were she could find the mansion that Raoul had purchased after asking around a bit. Her English wasn't perfect, but it served its purpose even though sometimes she had to repeat her request several times.

The towering manor didn't have anything in common with the de Chagny mansion in Paris besides the fact that they both were enormous. The English mansion was obviously quite old, built most likely during the Tudor era, although all of the original details were beautifully preserved. It was built of warm red brick and had multiple chimneys visible. The mansion in Paris had been made of cold white marble in the Greek Revival style with massive columns and no visible chimneys. Even with the cozy brick, the place seemed twice as cold as the Paris mansion, and it looked as if it had seen much more sorrow.

Christine took hold of the gothic brass knocker and rapped it several times against the door.

A mousy little maid opened it and snapped, "The count will not see anyone today."

"I am sure he'll see me. Tell him Christine is here." The maid's eyes shot open in shock, and she said that she would get him. Soon the other servants who were working were buzzing like locusts, "Christine Daae!" The passed by and gawked at her. Apparently, legends of her and spread as far as Dover, and now wouldn't they tell all their friends that they had seen the Count de Chagny's former wife in person. The mousy maid returned.

"The count will see you now." The servants' gazes followed her up the staircase leading no doubt to Raoul's office. Just as the maid opened the door, a young boy with a mass of golden curls atop his head ran down the hallway.

"Mamma!" he cried, wrapping his arms around Christine.

"Oh Vladen, my darling!" she rejoined.

"Why didn't you come? I was all alone. I called on Ami and he didn't come. I don't like this place. Have you come to take me back home?"

"I'm sorry, Vladen. Yes, perhaps we shall go home."

"Perhaps?"

"Christine!" Raoul's voice called. He jumped up from his desk and hurried out into the hallway. "I've missed so you much." He went to embrace her, but Christine took a step back.

"Raoul, I'm here on business."

"Oh. Well, please come into my office." Raoul went in, and Christine went to follow him. Vladen gripped at her skirts.

"Mamma! Don't go!" She knelt down and planted a soft kiss on his forehead.

"I'm only going to talk with Papa for a moment. Be a good boy and Mamma will come play with you in a few minutes. All right?"

"Yes, Mamma."

"I suppose you're here about Vladen, aren't you?" Raoul asked, closing the door to his office.

"What else would bring me across the channel?" Christine rejoined.

He collapsed into his chair and sighed, "I still love you, Christine." For a moment, she thought about setting her master plan into motion, but didn't. She couldn't be so unkind to Raoul. It would be so wrong, teasing him in such a way. So she bottled her feminine wiles away.

"I know," she replied gently.

"Will you give me another chance? Dacio, she completely manipulated me. I see that now. Could we start over?"

"No, Raoul."

Hoping that the answer wasn't what he was thinking it would be, Raoul asked, "Is there someone else?" Christine thought for a moment.

"You could say that. But enough talk about this, I want custody over Vladen."

"I can't refuse you, Christine. Vladen hates me. The only love he wants is from you. I'll settle all of the legal issues, and I'll contact you if you need to sign anything."

"Thank you, Raoul." She rose and then said, "I hope you find someone else who can truly make you happy, Raoul. I want my friend to be happy."

"May you be happy, too, Christine, with whoever the lucky man is who has captured your love." Holding back the bittersweet tears, a song came to Christine's mind, and she began to sing involuntarily,

"Love can do alot,  
but sometimes, love is not enough  
Faith is strong, but sometimes  
it is also self deception  
We wanted miracles, but they didn't happen  
It is about time that we see things more clearly  
We are like two boats in the night  
Every boat has its own destination and its own cargo  
We meet each other on the ocean,  
and then we are sad to part,  
but what's left of our rendezvous  
isn't for us to decide."

She finished the little song. Her voice was a little rusty, but the emotion had returned to it for the first time since that fateful night when she'd disappeared from the stage of the Opera Garnier.

"Good-bye, Raoul."

"Good-bye, Christine."

When Christine opened the door, Vladen was anxiously waiting at the door.

"Are you going home, Mamma?"

"Yes."

XXX

Finding Christine at the Ruel household had been both a pleasant and awful surprise for Erik. Seeing her, fast asleep in the guest room, he wanted to run up beside her, to gaze upon her face again. She had made her decision though. She didn't want to go with him. And so he began trying to stop loving her, stop wanting her, but old habits die hard. He had long since realized that turning his back on Christine would be as hard as it would be if he turned his back on music. It was impossible! Yet, he denied to truth and as each day dawned in the mortal world, he convinced himself that he was better off without her.

One of the souls who were bound to serve him, chosen ever so carefully by God and Lucifer, came up to him with a piece of parchment, on which the names of those who were to die that day were inscribed. Indifferently, he glanced down the page, and his eyes widened disbelief at one of the names:

Christine Daae 

"This… This cannot be correct," Erik bellowed, although his voice was quivering. He would not believe it. It was just a tease, some trick of his eyes.

"I will have it double-checked, but I am most confident in the fact that nothing will change," the soul replied.

"Have it checked anyway!" As the soul ran away with the paper, he repeated her name echoed in his head like some sort of chant.

Christine Daae… 

_Christine Daae…_

_Christine Daae…_

A/N: The song is "Boote in der Nacht" ("Boats in the Night") from **_Elisabeth_**. Many thanks to Stacy's Musical Village for the English translation!


	20. The Curtain is Falling

**Disclaimer: I do not own POTO or Elisabeth.**

**Chapter Twenty**

**The Curtain is Falling**

When the train stopped in Paris, Vladen looked up at Christine and asked her, "Why aren't we going home?" At first, Christine was just as confused as her son. Home? What did he mean? Paris was home. But then, wait a minute…

She sighed, "We'll have to make this our home for a while. We'll be back in Sweden before you know it." Christine intended to keep her promise.

Eventually, she was able to secure a job working at a millenary, and she was making decent money so that she could support herself and Vladen and tuck a little bit away to pay for returning to Sweden. The work was not hard, simply sewing trimmings on gowns and hemming dresses and skirts that had been accidentally made too long.

With what education Christine had received, she was able to tutor Vladen herself in reading and writing. Although she had to take a self-taught crash course on arithmetic to be able to teach her son, Christine was able to add arithmetic to the curriculum. She continued giving him French lessons, much to his displeasure, but they were absolutely necessary. Who knew how long they would be in France before Christine had saved enough money for the journey and a flat?

She was blissfully unaware of the fact that everything was about to change.

XXX

The list had been double-checked and triple-checked. There were absolutely no errors. As the time of Christine's death drew nearer, Erik didn't know whether he was going to be able to do it. Then he thought of the feeling of Christine's lips pressed against his. He had wanted that for so long now. He thought of the feeling of knowing that Christine was his at last, for eternity.

What about her young son, Vladen? What would happen to him once his mother was gone? He'd have no one to look after him then. He'd be all alone. Erik knew more than anyone the truly agony of being alone. His lips twitched upward. Of course Vladen wouldn't be alone. Vladen would have Ami, who promised him once that he'd never leave him. Ami hadn't always been one to keep his promises, but this was one he intended to keep.

One of the souls came up to him and muttered, "Death, sir, it is time for your appointment with Christine Daae."

"Thank you," he said, pulling his cloak about himself and descending down to the mortal world.

XXX

"Vladen, I have to go now," Christine said.

"Do you have to go, Mamma?" Vladen asked. They'd gone threw this conversation every day since they had returned to Paris.

"Unfortunately, yes. I'll be back at the usual time. If you get hungry, there is a roll in the cupboard. Have a good day now, and study your arithmetic like I told you to."

"Yes, Mamma. Good-bye."

"Goody-bye." Christine kissed him gently on the cheek and walked out the door.

Christine reached the millenary at eight o'clock, her usual time. The hours passed just as they did, filled with the same mundane sound of humming sewing machines and the demanding shouts of upper class girls ordering or getting their fitting for dresses for the latest ball or social event.

Six o'clock rolled around, and Christine pulled her cloak about herself and exited the millenary.

The evening was beautiful, warm and still. The sun was just beginning to set, staining the sky a blood red.

A horribly familiar shrill scream pierced the near perfect evening. Before Christine could do anything, Mignon Sommer was stabbing a knife into her breast. She ran down the street laughing madly, and Christine fell to the ground. Everything was fading away fast. Only black figure, who was approaching her.

Erik sang, softly, almost pleadingly:

"The Veil is falling, Leave the shadows  
I was longing so much for you  
Don't let me wait."

Christine sighed. So this was finally the finale of their opera. Maybe it wasn't the finale, maybe it was only the prologue. She raised her voice in reply:

"Let me be safe and free  
erase all memories of me  
give my soul a home."

Erik thrust out his hand toward her and cried:

"Let the world perish…"

She took his hand and joined him:

"I want to drown with you in the emptiness  
and ascend with you in the fire again  
lose myself with you in eternity!"

He melted into her embrace as Christine continued singing, softly:

"I have laughed and cried,  
I despaired and hoped again,  
But whatever I did,  
I was always loyal to myself."

Now he joined her, a broad smile filling his face:

"The world searches in vain  
For the meaning of my/your life"

Christine whispered:

"For I belong to me!"

Erik's smile was made only broader when he corrected her:

"You belong to me!"

Christine finally accepted his kiss.

_**Fin**_

A/N: I can't believe it: the last chapter! (wipes tear from face) Thanks to everyone whose followed this story and/or left a review.

The song is "Der Schleier Fallt (The Veil is Falling)" from **_Elisabeth_**. As always, many thanks to Stacy's Musical Village for the wonderful English translations!

I planning to start another full-length POTO fic soon, but it will take a backseat to my Pride and Prejudice fic, The Lonely Bennet.


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